


Valiant Souls

by KnightmareAceBlue



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambassador Frisk (Undertale), Angst, Blackmail, Blood, Burn Wounds, Character Death, Crossover, Dadforce, Dogs, Explosions, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Government Supported Private Investigator Ending | GSPI (Henry Stickmin), Gun Violence, He's Mostly Overcome It, Illustrations, It's pretty obvious no point in hiding it, Keep forgetting to tag that, M/M, Magic, Magic Crystals, Manipulation, Narrator Chara (Undertale), Needles, Panic Attack, Politics, Possession, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Post-Valiant Hero Ending | VH (Henry Stickmin), Presumed Dead Ending | PD (Henry Stickmin), Selectively Mute Henry, Something like that idk, Souls, Spoilers for True Pacifist Route, This is more aimed towards Henry Stickmin fans than Undertale fans, Undertale Characters will appear in chapter 3, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Valiant Hero Ending | VH (Henry Stickmin), Violence, Vomiting, Will Tag as I go to avoid spoilers, blood and injuries, dog violence, hypnotism?, in the past, injuries, yuck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 91,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27935601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightmareAceBlue/pseuds/KnightmareAceBlue
Summary: They all have something to SAVE. Henry, his best friend. The Toppats, their chief. Frisk, the monsters who had become like family to them. It won't be easy, and they'll probably FAIL a few times in the process.But there will be a happy ending. They are DETERMINED.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Charles Calvin & Henry Stickmin, Dave Panpa/Rupert Price, Flowey & Right Hand Man, Frisk & Monster Kid (Undertale), Frisk & Toriel (Undertale), Frisk (Undertale) & Everyone, Hubert Galeforce & Henry Stickmin, Reginald Copperbottom/Right Hand Man
Comments: 97
Kudos: 138





	1. All That's Left of You

**Author's Note:**

> Some things to establish before we get started:
> 
> 1) The mechanics of the Henry Stickmin games have been altered to better fit the Undertale system.  
> 2) LOTS of fanon concerning souls and magic, so be warned.  
> 3) While the events of Undertale will be explored, I doubt THSC will get the same treatment, so it's better to come in with knowledge of those games and their endings.  
> 4) I don't know if I'm going to keep doing illustrations. These took a lot of time, man. I'll try though.

“ _You could say it was the greatest-”_

You’d suppose that after time and time again of repeating the same day, the same choices, the same trauma over and over again, Henry would’ve at least become numb to the pain. But his chest still ached as he watched the explosion through the tiny window on the escape pod. Nothing had changed. Again and again and again he went back, and nothing ever changed.

Charles was still dead.

Henry sunk to the floor of the escape pod with a silent sob. He’d lost track at this point of how many times he’d reloaded to the beginning of the day. How many options he’d exhausted, how many times he’d tried to prevent Charles from even coming up here to begin with. Nothing worked. Charles was a stubborn, determined little man, and not even Henry breaking into tears had dissuaded him from going after the Toppat Clan (alone, in that timeline, which was somehow even _worse_ , the idea of poor Charles going through all this alone-) and sacrificing himself to finally take down the nefarious gang of thieves.

The first time it happened, Henry had screamed himself hoarse, banged on the window of the cracked pod until his knees finally gave out. When he’d delivered the news to Galeforce that first time, he’d had to sign because his throat was simply too shot to say the words aloud. It had been hours before Henry had been calm enough to attempt to reach his farthest SAVE, from before Charles had picked him up at that bar. From there he’d thrown himself at the Toppats at every angle, anything to try and save the first and only friend he’d ever managed to make. Obviously, it hadn’t quite gone to plan.

This time, Henry curled at the bottom of the damaged escape pod, ignoring the sounds of the metal sphere struggling to hold together as it reentered Earth’s orbit. It would make it, it always did. Henry almost wished it wouldn’t.

What was he supposed to do now?

The series of events following Henry’s reentry to Earth were background noise, at this point. He was found by some solider, taken back to camp, debriefed in person by General Galeforce himself. The man always struggled to keep himself composed when Henry would tell him about Charles’ death – broke down once, when Henry had gotten frustrated enough to yell at the man. It was always hard to watch.

When Henry was _finally_ shown to the tent where he’d be spending the night, he once again reached out to his farthest SAVE to attempt another retry, when he paused.

It wasn’t that he intended to stop trying – he’d _absolutely_ keep trying to SAVE Charles, up until he’d plum run out of determination. But what would he try if he went back again? He couldn’t go back farther – he’d tried, but didn’t quite have the determination to reach past his SAVE file from just before they met up at the bar. Maybe he could, with a bit more training – but that would take time, and he couldn’t risk losing that furthest SAVE until Charles was safe. Maybe he could knock Charles out and go all by himself? Or maybe-

“Psst, dude, you hear?” Two of the soldiers outside were talking amongst themselves. Whispering, like soldiers did when they had the juiciest gossip. Henry immediately tuned in.

“What?”

“The Toppat Station? It crashed, like, fifteen miles south of here. What’s left of it, anyways.”

“Dude, seriously?”

“Yup. Meg’s team is being moved out tomorrow to clean it up.”

The two continued to idly chatter, but Henry tuned back out. Had the station always crashed so close? Why was this new information after god knows how many loads? Did something change?

No, it didn’t matter. In other tries he hadn’t been able to learn much more of the station than what he and Charles had run through while making a break for the escape pods. No doubt the remains of the station were in tatters, but any new information was welcomed. Henry needed to learn more about his options aboard that damned station. He needed to see it himself.

He needed to get to that crash site, before it was cleaned up tomorrow.

Since he would be loading soon anyways, Henry didn’t bother packing up his stuff. All he had on him was his coat – a gift from Charles, one that had been taken from him at the Wall, but that he’d managed to grab on the way out – and a bag packed with whatever gadgets he’d need for the trip there. It was still strange, walking around in the open among men and women of uniform, but all he got as he scuttled past were either nods of acknowledgment or, from the knowing, looks of pity. Henry ignored all of them, keeping his eyes glued to the ground instead. One of them dared to whisper about ‘that poor boy...’ after he passed, and they only caused Henry to walk faster.

Assholes. How dare they pity him. He could burn down this entire camp before they even understood what was happening. Not that he would, of course. Henry Stickmin had something more important to do. Still, the bastards could at least show some tact.

Henry had managed to make it all the way to the camp’s parking center and hopped onto a motorcycle before somebody dared stand in his way. One hand rested firmly on the handlebars of the bike, forcing Henry to gaze up, past the green arm, the decorated chest, the graying beard, into the tired face of the General himself.

“Henry,” He said with a gentle sternness, like a parent scolding a child, “You should be getting some rest, son.”

God, Henry hated when the old man called him that. That was Charles’ title. It didn’t belong on Henry’s shoulders.

“I’m fine.” The younger man insisted. He probably wasn’t. While loading a SAVE restored his physical status to how it was when he first SAVED, it did nothing to correct the psychological need for rest. It felt like Henry hadn’t slept in forever, and he probably hadn’t. While he couldn’t remember how many times he’d loaded, it had to have been at least a few days worth of time. The last time he’d remembered sleeping was probably the timeline where Charles had gone up alone- no, now wasn’t the time to think about that. Henry had a Mission to Complete. He couldn’t let anything stand in his way.

“You look like hell, Henry.” The General stated bluntly.

Henry bit back a retort that he was one to talk. Galeforce’s eyes were red and sunken, and the lines on his face seemed much more prominent. He’d never been a spring chicken, but Galeforce suddenly seemed like a much older, frailer man than Henry had always perceived him as.

Instead, he shook his head, “Something I need to do.” He insisted. God, he wanted the General gone. The longer he looked at the man, the more his throat hurt. At this rate he was going to need to start signing again, and then the man would probably force Henry to rest physically, like he had in that first timeline. God, it was still embarrassing to think about that. Henry had _cried_. In front of another person. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done that.

“I think it can wait until morning, son.” The General insisted again, and Henry’s throat burned more.

“No, I need to do this now, while there’s still time.” It was getting harder to talk. If this kept on for much longer, Henry was just going to get off the damned bike and _walk_ the fifteen miles to the crash site.

Then the General blindsided him, “Henry, you’re not going to find anything.”

“Excuse me?”

“At the crash site,” The General’s expression shifted, going from sad but stern to just sad, “Charles’ body most likely burned up on reentry. There isn’t a corpse to bring back, son.”

Ah. That’s what he meant.

“I still have to go, sir.” Henry shifted the bike so he could drive around the General, only to be stopped again. He huffed, “Sir, please. I _have_ to see it for myself.” He couldn’t explain his powers – most humans had forgotten how magic worked, so trying to tell the General why he needed to investigate the remains of the Toppat Station would be like trying to explain aerodynamics to a fish at the bottom of the ocean. It’d just get Henry locked up. _Again_.

Once again, Henry tried to drive around the General, and once again the older man stood in his path. This time he put a warm hand on Henry’s cold one and said, soothingly, “Henry, please, get some rest. Charles would want you to take care of yourself. He’d want you to be okay, son.”

A red hot tear seared Henry’s eye as it broke loose and trailed down his cheek, and with all his remaining strength Henry barked, “If he wanted me to be okay so bad, he’d _be_ here to stop me.”

This time, when Henry drove off, the General stood perfectly still and allowed Henry to steer around him. His gaze in the rear-view mirror was forlorn and disappointed, and Henry had to force himself to focus on the road.

He’d be less sad once he realized Henry had stolen the bike, anyways.

Any doubts about the validity of the crash site were cleared up when Henry saw the pretentious marble pillars in the distance. No doubt about it, this was the Toppat Station. Why hadn’t this come up in previous timelines? Was Henry just not paying attention? Was one of those soldiers DETERMINED enough to notice the time loops and change things themselves?

It hardly mattered. The station’s remains were in sight, still smoking from the reentry. Henry parked his motorcycle maybe a hundred meters or so from the site, making sure it was well hidden among the rocks and shrubbery before continuing his approach on foot. No guards were posted around the site, which was... odd. A million questions bubbled in Henry’s brain, but he forced them down with firm DETERMINATION. Saving Charles came first. Everything else was secondary.

As Henry wandered the ruined station, he took note of different, important looking areas around the place. In addition to the core Charles’ had crashed into, there was also an engine, as well as what seemed to be terminals for an onboard computer system. These would come in handy for the next timeline. A door labeled ‘Armory’ caught his attention, and Henry made careful mental note of it. Over the years, he’d learned that all he could bring back with him were through his loads was information. At this point, he was pretty good at remember things. Henry moved the door to see if maybe he could get an idea of what sorts of weapons they had, but was disappointed to find only generic pistols. Any valuable weapons were either destroyed by the reentry or taken by the Toppats before they’d left.

Useless. He needed better information.

Henry stumbled around the corner and found a selection of mostly burnt up portraits. The former leaders of the Toppats, he supposed, now including a portrait of the guy he got arrested several weeks ago and some kid in a blue hat. Whatever, he didn’t have time for this. There wasn’t anything here he could _use_ , what was the point if he couldn’t use this information, why was he here-?

Henry clenched his fists and kept walking. To his side, he saw something on the side. Something familiar. White paint on a torn up wall directing passersby towards the escape pods. Henry swallowed. He should go in the other direction. He knew about the escape pods, he knew about everything in that direction. He should head in the opposite direction, see about other ways onto the station, see about maybe finding a way to manipulate their teleporter, or finding a vent, or-

Henry’s feet moved before his brain did. When he reached the hall where the escape pods were, the first thing he noticed was the blood stained top hat on the ground, and could only think _Good._

The second thing he noticed was a glowing green light shining from underneath a slab of metal debris.

Something familiar fluttered in Henry’s chest. His heart felt like it was about to stop. Could it be? It- it wasn’t possible. But this feeling...

It felt like Charles.

Henry felt reinvigorated. He flew over to the metal debris in seconds, and with strength he didn’t know he had, flipped what must have been a bit of wall away from the bit of light. It flew away for a few seconds before crashing into the ground with a loud _thunk_. The green glow got brighter, so bright that Henry had to shut his eyes. It was like the sun was suddenly on the ground, and his eyes burned terribly.

The light never dulled, but after a minute or so Henry’s eyes adjusted. He forced them open, and then they started burning for an entirely different reason.

There, before Henry’s eyes, was Charles. His soul, at any rate.

Any human who knew about magic also knew about souls, the culmination of one’s very being. They were the magical core of every living being on the planet, and human souls were especially powerful. They could even persist after death for a brief period of time, with enough DETERMINATION.

Logically speaking, Henry knew there was no reason to assume the glowing green soul belonged to Charles. There had to have been many Toppats who’d died during the explosion, and it was a stretch to just assume the first soul he’d come across was Charles. But Henry knows Charles. And this KINDNESS? This gentle compassion that brought back memories of late nights with ice cream and secret phone calls swapping stories of exciting missions? This was Charles, no doubt about it.

Tears poured down Henry’s face, and he couldn’t be bothered to make them stop. With shaking hands, Henry slipped his hands underneath the glowing soul and held it with a tenderness he hadn’t known he was capable of. It hovered a little above Henry’s hands, but he still felt its warmth, like a warm cup of the cocoa Charles had made him one morning after a sleepover. The warmth was familiar and comforting, and Henry held it close to his chest.

God, he’d missed this. Only now had Henry realized he hadn’t hugged Charles once in the god-knows-how-many reloads he’d done trying to save his life. He’d correct that next time-

Next time? Was it worth it to do a next time?

Nothing he’d tried had stopped Charles from foolishly sacrificing his life to stop the Toppats. Henry had tried everything he could think of, and nothing worked. He just hadn’t wanted to admit there was nothing he could do to SAVE Charles.

But now he had Charles’ soul. Maybe there was another way. Maybe he couldn’t SAVE Charles... but maybe he could bring him back.

Henry was DETERMINED.

_File Saved._

Hiding what was essentially a tiny green sun at night was easier than Henry had initially expected. Once contained in a knapsack, the glow toned down, to the point where you might not be able to tell it was glowing at all. Once Charles was safely tucked into Henry’s knapsack, pillowed on all sides by Henry’s jacket, he took the motorcycle and drove until they reached the nearest city. It was about dawn when Henry drove through the city limits, and since nothing would be open yet, he drove around and watched the town slowly wake up. People walked to work, stores opened up, and Henry decided against stopping for breakfast and pulled up to a bookstore. One of those old, hole-in-the-wall places, where the books were crisp and clean, but the front counter was covered in dust and coffee stains.

These were the kinds of places you found information about magic.

“Okay,” Henry said aloud, knowing full well that Charles likely couldn’t hear him, “There’s got to be _something_ in here about souls. Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out.”

He _had_ to.

The shop obviously wasn’t used to visitors. The entire hour or so he was in there, Henry wasn’t approached once by the older man at the front counter. That was fine. He likely didn’t know what treasures he had stored back here, anyways. After combing through book after book and totally _not_ getting distracted by a fascinating tome about the long lost treasures of a lost civilization, Henry found a book titled ‘A World of Monsters and Magic’. Promising, but it wasn’t guaranteed to have the information he needed, so Henry thumbed through it.

‘At the core of each Person is a Soul, the culmination of one’s very being. For Monsters, the Soul is a product of Hope and Magic, and is primarily a white colour with a dull glow. Humans, on the other hand, have more powerful Souls. This is because each Soul is formed from a mixture of seven separate Traits: DETERMINATION, the power to overcome all that stands in your way; BRAVERY, the power to face any obstacle head on; JUSTICE, the power to fight for what’s truly right; KINDNESS, the power to care for the well-being of other Creatures; PATIENCE, the power to wait and listen until the Time is right; INTEGRITY, the power to stay true to yourself and your Cause; and PERSEVERANCE, the power to survive all that you endure. Each Soul is composed of varying levels of all Traits...’

Well, that was a lot of useful information. Henry probably could’ve stolen the book, but didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention when time was of the essence, so he paid and got out quickly. His next stop was a crummy, cheap hotel on what was obviously the bad side of town. It was barely clean, and the bed felt like a slab of stone, but it was quiet and out of the way, so Henry sat on the edge of the bed and first checked on Charles’ soul, holding it in his hand for a moment to relish in the KINDNESS it radiated.

Henry let himself be lost in the feeling for a moment before steeling his focus. He picked up the book and turned right back to the passage on human souls.

‘...while it takes all seven Traits combined to successfully form one Human Soul, each Trait holds a different function in both the forming of a Personality and the unique strengths that Human Souls have over other Creatures. DETERMINATION, for example, is not just the force that compels One to never give up. It is what holds the Soul together, weaving the other six Traits into a single, stable construct. It is also the reason Human Souls have the ability to persist after death, when other Creature’s Souls fade immediately upon their Death.’

“Interesting...” Henry murmured. He squinted as the tiny text suddenly blurred, then shook his head. No, he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet, not until he had _something_ that could help him bring back Charles.

‘DETERMINATION is unique amongst the other Traits in that it is a trait that all Humans need to have in a certain quantity, in order to hold the Soul together. In the absence of DETERMINATION, the Traits unravel and destabilize, resulting in destabilization of the Soul. This can... if DETERMINATION is extracted from a healthy soul and introduced to the wounded Soul... of DETERMINATION must be done...The physical structure of the Soul is determined by... a Soul with low amounts of INTEGRITY is more susceptible to... High amounts of KINDNESS are invaluable to... without injections via... compassion...’

Henry’s eyes fell for just a moment, then he shook himself awake. The bed was a stone-hard slab, but being horizontal for the first time in what must have been days was pushing buttons in his brain that DETERMINATION and adrenaline had kept at bay. Despite his best efforts, Henry’s face fell into the book, and soon after he was snoring loudly.

Something changed. There was a hum that hadn’t been there before, a noise that was unfamiliar enough that Henry’s brain clicked right back on. He slowly pulled himself up as his brain struggled to reboot. “Hngh... wha...?” The man muttered incoherently as his still sore eyes scanned the room for whatever had woken him up.

What Henry saw when he turned his head made his stomach drop. His slowly booting brain suddenly kick started into full gear.

It was Charles. And he was fading.

The green glow that was Charles was dulled significantly, and little gray bits of energy broke away from the soul before fading into the Ether. Henry immediately scrambled towards him and cupped the soul gently in his hands. The KINDNESS it gave off was muted, like a sound being heard from underwater. So far the soul was still in tact, but it would disappear soon enough if Henry didn’t act.

Charles is dying again, Henry thought, and shook. He was dying again, again, _again_ , Henry had to act NOW, he had to do something, he couldn’t lose Charles again-

In his panic it was a struggle to focus. Henry struggled to recall what he read and remembered what the book said about DETERMINATION. It allowed souls to persist after death, and could be introduced to the soul via... injections? Right, that’s what it said.

In a hotel room like this, finding a needle wasn’t terribly hard. Henry only took the briefest moment to wipe it down with a clean cloth before conjuring his own soul out into the open.

The red glow was bright, but didn’t hurt his eyes like Charles’ had at first. Whether it was because Charles’ was just naturally brighter than Henry’s or because this was Henry’s soul and incapable of hurting him was unclear, but Henry didn’t put much into the fleeting thought before bringing the needle up to the glowing red object.

And

Pushing

In.

Henry gasped when the needle punctured his soul, but didn’t stop for a second. He watched as the syringe filled up with a red glow and pulled it out quickly. The ache lingered, and it caused Henry’s arms to shake, but there wasn’t time to deal with it. Charles was more important.

“Okay, asshole, now it’s your turn,” Henry warned the green soul, “Hopefully, you can’t feel pain like this.”

When the needle punctured Charles, much more carefully than it had punctured Henry, the criminal’s own chest ached again in sympathy. He pushed the plunger down and watched as the glowing red DETERMINATION was pushed into the soul. It lingered for a few breathless seconds, then disappeared as Charles absorbed it. The fading stopped, and Charles soul quite suddenly brightened, to the point where Henry’s eyes had to readjust again. But when he looked again at Charles, the poor soul was just as radiant as when Henry had first encountered him.

“Shit, that was close,” Henry murmured under his breath, hesitant to break the tense silence that fell over them. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep, not when Charles was in such an obviously delicate state, “Stupid.” He needed to be more careful. This could be his one chance to SAVE Charles. He couldn’t blow it this time.

The needle was carefully pulled away from Charles and discarded. While there was a small black dot at the pricking point, the soul was otherwise undamaged by Henry’s actions. Good. When Henry sat back up though, he found the pain in his chest still lingered, and hoped again that Charles couldn’t feel anything while he was in this state. The last thing Henry wanted was for him to suffer anymore than he already had ~~because of Henry’s mistakes.~~

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Henry began, not quite sure what he was supposed to say, “But I promise you, this time I’m gonna make things right. I’m gonna make sure you can live the rest of your life.”

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or wishful thinking, but the aura of KINDNESS radiating off of Charles’ soul seemed to get stronger.

“You’ll get to go on more missions for the General,” Henry continued on, trying not to mind the sudden dampness of his face, “And save the world from more criminals. And you’ll get to retire properly, and live in a nice house, and the HOA will hate you, because you’ll do stupid things all the time, but everyone will love you so much that when they try to fine you, the entire neighborhood will riot. And you’ll find love, and they better not break your heart, and maybe you can’t have kids, but I know you’d be the best adopted dad, and- and-”

Henry hiccupped, and sobbed. The pressure of failing again and again finally let loose, and Henry couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t even try. He held Charles close and let himself just _feel_ for the first time in what felt like forever. God, that was terrifying. Not the needle, he didn’t give a shit about that, but almost losing Charles in an entirely different way triggered an avalanche of repressed emotions.

“I’ll save you, Charles. I promise,” Henry managed to force out between his sobs, “I promise. I promise. I promise. I promise...”

Charles didn’t respond. He couldn’t. But Henry felt his DETERMINATION reinvigorate. Nothing would stop him from SAVING Charles. Nothing.

Several miles to the East, Mount Ebott erupted for the first time in centuries.


	2. Last Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Toppat Time. :)

The sun had set, and the heist was on.

Sven had led his fair share of capers even before taking over the clan in the absence of the Chief and his Right Hand. He’d robbed countless banks, cleaned out god knows how many vaults, and stolen millions of euros worth of invaluable treasures. But for this heist, the stakes were higher than they’d been throughout his entire career. The prize on the table was not a giant shiny Emerald, or a sweet pair of solid gold pants.

This time, victory was the means of securing the very survival of the Toppat Clan.

The destruction of the Space Station had left the Toppats at a quarter of their previous numbers. Only a handful remained, and those who’d successfully evaded capture had found their way to the cement bunker that had, in the days before the Airship, served as a place of gathering for the Toppats of the past. It wasn’t pretty, far from the luxury most of their surviving members had grown used to under Chief Reginald’s reign. But it was out of the way. Here, they were safe for the moment.

For the moment. But it wouldn’t last forever. It probably wouldn’t even last them the week. They needed a new plan. They needed Chief Reginald and his Right Hand Man back.

It had been Reginald that had pulled the Clan out of the abyss Terrance Suave had gotten them into. They’d still been reeling under the bankruptcy that Randy Radman had put them through (He’d, at least, had the honour to own up to his mistakes and pay the full price), and Suave’s ‘solutions’ had been a series of increasingly risky jobs that were very rarely worth what was lost. When Chief Reginald took over Sven had been relatively new, but he still remembered the chaos of those first few years as Reginald carefully planned their return to power while his Right Hand Man, entirely loyal from day one, weeded out discord and silenced any dissenters.

It hadn’t been easy being a Toppat in those days, but watching the Chief’s endless toiling had lit a fire in Sven, one that would never extinguish. The Toppats were his family, the only people who’d ever accepted him. Sven couldn’t let them die.

And saving the Clan meant bringing back the men who’d saved them before. Chief Reginald was the only one who could save them from Sven’s mistakes.

The explosion had granted them one advantage: surprise. They had to strike now, while the world still believed the Toppats were a threat extinguished. There was no floor plan for the prison Sven was about to invade, as the plans to break them out had been lost along with the station and could not be recovered. But the one thing Sven had been able to recover may have been even better than a map.

“You sure this is a good idea, Sir?”

Burt Curtis, acting Right Hand Man only by virtue of being close enough to Sven to bother volunteering when no one else wanted the job, seemed to disagree with him on that matter.

Fortunately, the Right Hand would never have the authority to supersede the Chief, so Sven merely shot back, “It’s not like we have any better ideas. We can’t afford to fuck this up, and with this,” Sven held the shiny red crystal higher, so that Burt could get a good look at it, “We literally cannot. Not when we have literal _time_ on our side.”

The gem hadn’t been an intentional grab. Sven and a few others had snatched valuables from a museum that specialized in ancient civilizations, intending to grab some old tomes or weapons that would have fetched a high price on the black market. The gem hadn’t even caught his attention initially, because it was badly cut and the clarity was absolute garbage. He’d dismissed it as some meaningless relic of ancient culture, maybe an example of their currency. It had been the Witch, accompanying them due to her knowledge of magical history, that had shrieked in surprised and joy when spotting the crystal and insisting they grab it. It wasn’t until the team returned to base that she excitedly explain why.

This was a Time Crystal. It allowed any human, regardless of their natural proclivities, to use Master level time magic. Even after what felt like hours of instruction, Sven still didn’t entirely get how it worked, but the Witch had been calm and patient as she’d guided him through lessons like a child.

...she’s gone now. She, and many of the Toppats that Sven had worked with in the past. The thought of her gleeful smile as she rambled on and on about the possibilities of the crystal fueled a cold anger in Sven’s heart.

Burt still didn’t seem convinced, but ultimately shrugged and fell to his side as Sven waltzed over to the other two Toppats joining them on this mission. They were both chosen for their particular skillset: Mr. Macbeth, the Toppats primary train conductor and wielder of the clan’s most brutal weapon, had been invited along for both his abilities as a ranged fighter and his skills as a get away driver. He’d been a part of the clan much longer than Sven had, and was one of the few executives that didn’t whisper in hushed tones as he walked past. On the contrary, Gremlin, the other of the two Toppats, had been brought along for her CQC abilities and her lockpicking skill, which far surpassed Sven’s own. She was younger than Sven, having joined up a little before the airship raid, and had greeted Sven’s rushed ascension to chief with a salute and a smile. He admired her. All but one of her friends had been lost in the explosion, but she still followed Sven’s orders.

They were both skilled, but more importantly, they both trusted his leadership abilities. He didn’t deserve them, god he didn’t, but unquestioning loyalty was just what he needed right now.

“Alright, everybody, this is the big moment,” He announced. Not too loudly, as they couldn’t afford to be caught before they’d even started, but loud enough that Gremlin and Macbeth could hear him, “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” The Gremlin grinned, holding her broadsword aloft.

“Ready!” Cheered Macbeth, charging his giant laser gun in preparation.

“Ready,” Burt mumbled with all the enthusiasm of a child at a dentist’s office. He did double check his pistol to make sure it was properly loaded though.

Each ready got a nod from Sven, who turned towards the prison, held up the time crystal, and...

_File Saved._

Okay, the spell was cast. Now came the tricky part.

“I think our best option would be... hum...” Sven thought a moment, then decided, “We should climb the fence and go in through the yard.”

The four Toppats sprinted up to the fence, Sven in the lead. Once they reached it he boosted up the other three before climbing over himself, hopping down into the prison courtyard. All four were posed for combat, ready for any ensuing attacks by the guards.

They were not ready for the dogs.

The demonic things came as a surprise. One moment they were running across the dark courtyard, the next Macbeth was screaming as something grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him into the shadows. Then one jumped past Sven, barely missing him and tackling poor Gremlin to the ground. Her screech echoed through the courtyard, and spotlights were pointed at them from all directions.

“Shit...” Burt whispered, backing up with an arm held up as if to protect Sven, despite being almost two heads shorter than him. Sven’s hand went to his pocket, and pulled out the crystal, raising it above his head.

“Okay, now’d be a good time to send us back!” Sven said. He didn’t go back, but in his peripheral vision something glowed yellow.

_Load Save?_

“Yes, yes!” He cried, reaching for the yellow glow. His fingers tapped it, and the crystal in his grasp grew hot, so hot it was difficult to keep hold of it. But Sven held on, and...

“Sir?” Burt poked his back, “Have you decided how to approach the jail yet?”

His hand was still burning, but the pain was nothing compared to the elation Sven felt in that moment, “It worked!” He cheered, then turned to grasp Burt by the hand, “Burt it worked! We went back in time!”

Burt was normally a fairly difficult person to shake, but Sven’s sudden change of attitude had him in visible confusion, “We did?”

“We did!” The look on Burt’s face was enough to calm Sven, at least a little, “You don’t remember? We went into the courtyard, and the dogs... they bit Macbeth!” As if only suddenly remembering, Sven pushed Burt gently to the side, “You’re okay?”

“I... don’t remember that happening either,” The older Toppat admitted, but the leg that had been bitten bounced once, as though a part of him did recollect the pain.

“It’s probably ‘cause you have the crystal,” Gremlin mused aloud, “Makes sense. You cast the magic, so you’re the only one who knows about what happened before you went back.”

Sven nodded, “Well, the courtyard’s a bad idea. Kind of obvious in retrospect,” Sven scanned the walls of the prison again, and spotted another way in, “Aha!”

The group pressed forward again, this time towards the outermost wall of the prison. Sven pressed himself against the wall, then had Burt boost him up to a ventilation shaft. It would be a tight fit, but if they went one at a time, Sven was confident they could swing it. The vents were dark, but they had a glowing crystal on them, so Sven wasn’t particularly worried about not seeing. He was a tad worried about losing someone in this labyrinth of a vent system, but every time he thought that he’d pause for a moment and glance back, seeing Burt directly behind him, face blank as always, then Gremlin behind him, then Macbeth, attempting to peer over her shoulder to find out what the hold up was. And every time he confirmed that everybody was still there, Sven would sigh in relief and continue on.

When he found an empty room, Sven carefully undid the vent and dropped down alone into what appeared to be a breakroom. The lights were off and the hallway outside was dead quiet. Once Sven finished his inspection, he signaled for the other three Toppats to descend.

“Ah, this brings back memories,” Macbeth mused with a fond smile, picking up a used paper cup from the counter, “First time I got arrested, there was a break room just like this down the hallway from my cell. Smelling that coffee everyday and not being able to have any pissed me off enough that I broke out just to get me a cup.” He chuckled, tossing the cup haphazardly into a nearby garbage can.

“Riveting,” Commented Burt, voice dry as the desert sand. He observed their surroundings for a quick moment before spotting a cork board on the wall, nearly hidden by the darkness, “Hey Chief, bring that light over here.”

Sven cringed a bit at the moniker, but approached to provide light for Burt’s reading.

“Okay... let’s see what we’ve got,” Burt looked through the tangled mess of sticky notes and tacked up fliers. It was nonsense to Sven, too much raw data to be sorted through in such a short amount of time, but Burt was their Communications Specialist for a reason, “Hmm... potluck on Friday, progress on the doughnut thief, oh, somebody had a baby, that’s nice...”

“Burt,” Sven tossed him an unamused glare, “focus, please.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grumbled the other man. He mumbled to himself as he continued to look through the mess of notes on the wall, “Ah! Here, take a look at this: ‘Alert to all guards! The prisoners in cell 86 are NOT to be separated at any time! Disobedience could result in serious casualties to both yourself and others. We do NOT want a repeat of the Sandwich Incident! Sincerely, Chief Miller’.”

Gremlin pumped her arm, excited, “That’s gotta be them!” She cheered, still mindful to keep her voice down, “No one else would throw a fit about being separated like the Right Hand Man!”

“I’m more interested in this ‘Sandwich Incident’,” Said Macbeth.

“We can ask them after we get them out,” Sven interrupted, “Do you have any idea which way we should go, Burt?”

Burt hummed as he continued to examine the cork board, “Give me a moment... ah, okay, looks like cells 80 through 90 are on the tenth floor. We can probably get up there using the vent system.”

“UGH,” Groaned Gremlin, “More vents?”

Her comment earned her a sneer from Macbeth, “You know kid, during MY first heist I climbed seventeen stories up a dumb waiter. Couldn’t rest for even a moment, or I’d fall to my doom! In comparison to that-”

“You’re just making that up, you crazy old man-!”

While the two of them bickered, Sven held the red crystal above his head once again and stared at it. When he’d first stolen it, the thing had seemed dull, and the clarity was so cloudy that he’d initially thought the magic stone was pink. But now that it’s magic was active, it radiated light. The cut was still uneven, there was no fixing that, but the impurities seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a clean, shimmering ruby. It was actually quite pretty. Once the mission was done and over with, Sven might have it made into a necklace for himself.

_File Saved_.

“Alright, enough wasting time,” Sven scolded the two, who immediately fell into silence upon his command, “We’re on the third floor right now, and who knows how long it will take us to navigate seven stories up. Burt, give me a boost up. I’m the one with the time powers, so I’ll be leading the way.”

His tone left no room for argument, so the four reentered the vents and went on their way.

They had to reload two more times before finally reaching the tenth floor: firstly when the vent shaft broke underneath their combined weight and dropped them in front of a group of guards on their way home for the night (That one was Sven’s fault. He should’ve realized the vent wasn’t supported enough for all of them.). Then Gremlin’s phone went off somewhere on the 6th floor, alerting a nearby guard to their presence (That resulted in Sven taking the phone from her and smashing it beneath his heels). When they finally managed to navigate their way up, Sven made sure they were in a secure location before making another SAVE.

They were in what appeared to be a janitor's closet. Burt pressed his ear right up to the door and held up a hand to signal that somebody was passing by. They remained silent until he gave the all-clear.

“Okay,” Sven said before he opened the door, “Our next step should be to find the bosses. Gremlin, are you absolutely sure you can pick the locks on their cells?”

“Is the inside of a cutlass scabbard oiled?” She asked, as though the answer should be obvious. From somewhere to his side, Burt gave Sven a subtle thumbs up, so he assumed the answer was yes.

“Once we get the chiefs, we’ll come straight back here. Out the way we came.” Sven waited until he had three nods of acknowledgment before proceeding. “After we get out, our escape vehicle will be parked half a mile northeast. We can use Burt’s cell to find it, since someone-” Gremlin suddenly became very interested in watching the reflection on her sword, “-didn’t remember to turn theirs off.”

Macbeth huffed, but before he could go off on one of those obnoxious ‘kids these days’ rants, Burt cut him off with a simple, “You got it, Chief.”

“Hopefully I won’t be chief for much longer.” Sven mumbled. He didn’t miss the way Gremlin and Macbeth suddenly averted their eyes, or how Burt’s stern, bored expression suddenly softened. “Alright, everybody, let’s move!”

They checked the perimeter once more, then began moving.

Sven thought it might have been hard to locate their leaders in this labyrinth of a prison, but once again the Right Hand Man made life easier for them by shouting something incomprehensible. His voice, as always, sparked a strike of fear through Sven’s heart, and Gremlin and Burt’s simultaneous flinches implied they shared the feeling. Macbeth, though, just smiled in amused familiarity.

“-and if you even _think_ about bringin’ another strawberry anywhere _near_ this cell, I’m gonna fuckin’-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Sven grabbed Burt by the hand and pulled him around a nearby corner to avoid detection from the guard who just ran past, practically crying their poor little eyes out. All four Toppats cringed in sympathy. They’d all had their fair share of the Right Hand’s infamous scoldings, after all. They knew how he worked.

“Honestly, Right,” That was their other boss, Reginald Copperbottom. Hearing his voice stilled Sven’s heart for a moment, “You didn’t have to go so hard on the poor kid. He’d clearly brought it for himself-”

“They bloody well know you’re allergic. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson the first time-”

“Glad to see you two haven’t changed,” Macbeth chuckled as he walked calmly into the room, as if there was no time limit and this was just a social visit. The two leaders immediately stood up straight and ran right up to the bars.

“Macbeth!” Reginald smiled widely, gazing upon his four rescuers as if they were the lost city of Atlantis, “Everybody! Oh, it’s good to see you! When we heard about the space station, I was so sure the Toppats were done for. But you’re here!”

They heard about it. Sven’s heart sank.

“About bloody time,” The Right Hand grumbled, “Ya didn’t think getting us out sooner woulda helped ya any?”

“Sorry, we were a bit preoccupied.” Sven apologized, “We weren’t even sure where you were until a few days before- before we lost the station.” He signaled to Gremlin, and she knelt beside the cage and began picking the lock. Her tongue stuck out as she fiddled with the door.

“Ugh, fuckin’ government assholes. Hope they went down with all the Toppats they took,” The Right Hand scowled, the kind of scowl that curdled milk and made children cry. It even made Macbeth cringe a little. But Reginald’s hand in his own, a small touch from the man he’d devoted his life to, and it was like all that anger melted away. There was a part of Sven that couldn’t even begin to comprehend how one person could have that kind of effect on you. Another part of him coveted that for himself.

The thought of interrupting the moment of peace was painful, but as acting chief, it was Sven’s duty to report to them what was going on, “We’re down to about a quarter strength. Most of the Toppat Clan died up on the Station. About 30 percent of those who survived were captured upon reentry into the atmosphere. Everyone who’s made it is gathered in our remote facility from before the airship. I- we’ve done the best we could without you sir, but nobody has any idea how to move forward. We need you, Chief.”

At that moment the door swung open, and Reginald stepped out. He paused, inhaled deeply, then smiled and squared his shoulders, once again carrying himself with confidence. Beforehand, Sven had assumed the confidence came from his power, from what leading the clan had brought him. Now the Swedish man knew he had it backwards; it took great strength and confidence, greater than Sven himself possessed, to hold together an organization as big and chaotic as the Toppat Clan.

“Well then,” He said, “Let’s get started.”

For the first time in a long time, Sven felt hope in his soul.

As they walked away from the cell, and Right Hand Man was distracted entertaining his subordinates with the riveting tale of how he’d taken down guards who would dare separate him and Reginald using only a submarine sandwich, Sven turned to his boss and said, “Sir, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hm?” Reginald looked at him questioningly, as if he had no idea why Sven would need to apologize.

“The Space Station,” Clarified Sven. It felt like there was something caught in his throat; he had to force out what he wanted to say, “I-I really screwed things up, sir. You and everyone else were counting on me, and I screwed everything up.”

Tears stung at the corners of Sven’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. At least, not until Reginald put a firm hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into the Chief’s eyes.

“Svenson, you did great!” The shock of hearing that, for the first time in his entire time as acting chief, shocked Sven into letting a few tears fall. This was all Reginald needed to continue, “There was nothing you could have done differently to prevent what happened. It’s not your fault some government stooge with a hero complex decided to ram their spaceship into our engine. You did the best you could with what you had. Seeing the future is a little too much to ask of you, don’t you think?”

Sven took a shuttering breath and dried his face. This was why Reginald was in charge; any other Toppat would have scolded him for his behavior, or just ignored it to focus on the mission. But Reginald had a special talent for knowing just what they needed. He always did. Once, before the Airship Raid, Sven had asked how he always knew just what to say, and Reginald had smiled and told him to just ‘wait and listen’. Sven hadn’t gotten it, still didn’t despite all his attempts to be a leader like Reginald, but his shoulders felt a little lighter, like they always did after talking to the Chief.

“Thank you, sir,” Sven said when he felt his voice was steady enough, “I can’t even begin to-”

The words of gratitude that Sven had in his head were evaporated by the sound of a familiar scream, followed by an equally familiar zapping noise. Something had hurt Gremlin, and Macbeth had fired his laser in retaliation. And when the two chiefs rounded the corner, that’s exactly what they found.

The poor girl was on the ground, not unconscious but clutching her arm. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, but Sven was at her side at a heartbeat, gently inspecting her arm. No broken skin, but it would bruise badly.

“We got careless when we thought it was safe.” Macbeth huffed, brow furrowed. It was hard to tell if he was angry or disappointed.

To the side, Burt and Right Hand Man were crouched over the body of what must have been a security guard. The Right Hand had picked up his weapon, a simple handgun, and was checking his ammo. Burt tuned in on the frequency of his radio before smashing the thing.

“He must have radioed for help before he ambushed us,” Burt noted casually, as if discussing the weather, “I’m tuned in on their transmissions. They’ve got a small squadron heading up to our location.”

“Should we go back again?” Sven asked, already reaching for the gemstone in his pocket.

Gremlin shook her head. Despite her wound, she gently pushed Sven back and picked up her broadsword, “This isn’t a bad thing. Everyone will be on there way up here, so if we hurry, we should have a clear path out.” The girl ran forward, and Sven let her. Their destination – the closet which led to the vents they were using to get down – was only a few meters away, and everyone was ready for another attack.

“Alright, c’mon, Reg,” The Right Hand Man pulled himself up and walked over to his partner, taking Reginald by the hand to pull him closer, “Stay close ta me. I’ll protect ya.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to hold my hand,” The Chief retorted. The Right Hand Man didn’t say anything in response, but he went red as he pulled Reginald along, only stopping to smack a snickering Macbeth on the back of the head

Burt was still playing with the settings on his headphone. Sven stopped to gently tap him on the head, “C’mon. We’ve got to keep moving!”

“I’m trying to tune in on their superiors, trying to see what their plans are-”

“You can do that in the vents, let’s go!”

Burt finally complied, and this time Sven brought up the rear of those crawling through the vent system. Going down was, naturally, quite a bit more intense than coming up, but between Reginald’s cautious instructions and the Right Hand’s incredible strength, they made it all the way down to floor 3 without incident.

And then the vent broke again.

In hindsight, Sven felt so stupid. The Right Hand and Reginald had added at least 150 kilos to their load. Of course they were going to break the stupid vent! Why hadn’t he seen this coming?

To make matters worse, they’d also managed to land smack dab in the middle of an armed guard, likely patrolling the floor in search of them. At the moment they were only outnumbered by two, but if the way the one near the back was whispering into his talkie was anything to go by, it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Before the group could even get there bearings and right themselves, they were surrounded.

Sven cursed under his breath, feeling for the magic stone that was now in his pocket. Should he use it now? He hadn’t cast a SAVE since they reached the top floor, so they would lose quite a bit of progress. But still...

No, he’d go a little while longer. If anyone got seriously hurt, he’d go back. But for now...

For now, Sven launched himself at the guard directly in front of him, taking everyone by surprise except Burt, who immediately began providing cover fire. The months they’d spent as chief and second-in-command had lead to them becoming quite familiar with the other’s fighting style. Right Hand Man was the next to react, taking his pistol in one hand and bracing the other into a tight fist as he launched himself into the fray, trailed after by the Gremlin, who charged in with her sword raised above her head. Macbeth and Burt held back to both provide cover fire and protect Reginald, the only one of them who lacked a weapon.

The man Sven knocked down was only stunned for a moment before he began to fight back. He had a clear weight advantage, but Sven had the clear brain advantage, because when the man turned them over and tried to punch him in the face, Sven merely tilted his neck and the man instead punched the cold ground. God knows what those floors were made of, but it must have been pretty hard for the guy’s fingers to make that sound when he hit it. Sven almost felt sorry for him. Not enough to not headbutt the guy, though.

After his guy was taken down, Sven took a look around. They may have had the number advantage, but the guards had mostly fallen to the vastly superior skills of the Toppat warriors. But in the distance, Sven could hear doors opening, elevators chiming. Reinforcements were on their way, and the Right Hand Man was already out of ammo. They were going to be swarmed if they didn’t get out of here fast.

Sven tried to focus. He looked to the left, to the concrete wall that would lead them outside.

“Burt!” He called to his right hand, still standing in front of Reginald with Macbeth, “Do you still have the good stuff?”

“The good stuff?” One of the older clansmen mumbled. Sven wasn’t paying enough attention to know who it was.

It was a rare occurrence when Burt would put on an actual, genuine smile. But at that moment a tiny one formed on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of their back-up plans: a C4 explosive device.

“Ah, _that_ good stuff.”

Burt placed the device, and less than ten seconds later they’d successfully installed a new door on the third floor of the prison.

Descending from the third story was an easy feat, compared to their other escapades throughout the night. Unfortunately, they landed in the courtyard, and Sven could already hear the growling of dogs all around them. He tensed, and so did Macbeth beside him.

“Too much is going wrong,” Sven decided. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Time crystal, “We’re going back.”

The yellow glow once again appeared, but before Sven could reach out for his SAVE, his hand suddenly was engulfed by pain. This time it wasn’t the burning of the crystal that was causing him distress; no, this time it came from the smoking end of gun from somewhere unseen. Sven gasped, and the crystal flew out into the yard.

“No!” Sven cried, and ran after it without much thought. He could hear the others behind him, screaming at him, but all his focus was on the glowing red gem. If he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed how Burt broke formation to provide him cover, or how Reginald was whistling to attract the dogs over to him, where Gremlin made quick work of them with her sword. But none of that registered in Sven’s mind. Only the crystal did.

Once he had the Time Crystal in hand, Sven immediately lifted it above his head to use it again. But something was wrong. Dangerous red sparks were cast out from the gem. On one side of the gem a giant crack ran from one tip to the other. Before Sven could even begin to comprehend the danger he was in, one of the sparks struck his hand, burning him so badly he dropped the gemstone on the ground.

“Sven!”

Someone called to him, but the painful feeling of his flesh being magically fried was so bad Sven couldn’t comprehend who. He shook his burnt hand, desperate for the sensation to go away. The pain was unbearable; it was like Sven’s hand was on fire. Everything around Sven was muted; the screaming from behind, the yelling from ahead, the crackling fizzle from below.

What finally broke through the haze of pain was a sharp jab to his side, tossing him several feet away and knocking him flat on his back. Sven lost his barrings for a few brief moments, but looked up just in time to see Reginald be caught in the crystal’s explosion.

It was like the entire world went silent. The guards stopped. The Toppats stopped. Even the dogs stopped to stare at the horrendous spectacle. Reginald’s mouth was open; he may have been screaming, but there wasn’t any sound over the terrible crackling of the explosion, like a thunder strike that was going on for much, much too long. The light of the explosion didn’t hurt Sven’s eyes at all, but it struck terror in him, like the very cosmos themselves were at war in front of his very eyes. And Sven suddenly understood.

What was in that crystal hadn’t been time magic at all. It had been a force much stronger, strong enough to bend time to the holder’s will. Something powerful enough to reshape the very world. And he’d held it in the palm of his hand, without any idea of what he was truly wielding. God, what a fool he’d been.

Then the explosion stopped. The crackling stopped. The noise, the light, everything stopped. Then Reginald fell.

To his feet.

Then his knees.

Then face down in the muddy courtyard, still as death itself.

It was the Right Hand Man who reacted first. It only felt like a moment to Sven before the older man was kneeling next to the Chief, his hands hovering hesitantly above his fallen partner.

“Reg...” He whispered, words so silent they were more like a breath on a wind, “Reg, c’mon, wake up. Please... please don’t do this to me.”

The words broke whatever spell the explosion had put on Sven. The weight of the ultimate power he’d wielded but moments ago was forgotten in favour of the present. Reginald; his Chief, his boss, his _teacher_ , was dying on the ground. Sven had to do something.

There was a single fence between them and freedom. All Sven had to do was knock it down, and he could save Reginald. It was his duty; as a student, as a fellow Toppat. As the failure who caused this mess in the first place.

Sven doesn’t think. He just _does_.

And the fence went down with a single punch. Sven only saw the blue glow around his fist for a single moment before it faded.

When he turned around, everybody was staring at him. Knocking the fence down had caused a second wave of paralysis in both the guards and the Toppats. Even the remaining dogs were stilled by the display. In truth, Sven himself was still going more by instinct than any active thought.

“Let’s move!” He called out to the other Toppats. Burt was the first to respond to his call, cocking his gun and pointing it around as a warning. Then the Right Hand Man. Under normal circumstances he brought up the rear of any given group, covering for his fellow Toppats and striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. But with Reginald in trouble, it didn’t take any encouragement for the normal battle-hungry Toppat to lead the retreat, tailed by Macbeth, then Gremlin, then Burt. Finally, when the entire party had made their way through, Sven followed behind, glaring at the guards over his back. After the display of power he’d just performed, none of them seemed eager to follow behind.

And thus ended the reign of chief Sven Svenson: The biggest failure in the history of the Toppat Clan.

Their vehicle arrived at dawn, just before the sun was set to rise. It felt darker than it had been when they left, for more reasons than the obvious.

Initially the Toppats were happy and excited to see them, but any cheer died the instant they saw the Right Hand carrying their Chief. People whispered in the background, and Sven tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help hearing his own name among the chatter.

It wasn’t until Reginald had been put to rest in a proper bed that the debriefing truly begun.

“What the hell happened?” Demanded Ms. Cross. She wasn’t exactly known for being easy on the younger members of the clan, and her reputation held true now.

The Right Hand didn’t respond. He sat by Reginald’s bedside, holding the Chief’s limp hand in his own. If he felt anything at the moment, he wasn’t showing it on his face.

Macbeth grumbled and looked to the side, and Gremlin twiddled her fingers together. As leader of the exhibition, Sven knew he needed to be the one to respond, but one look at the choir of angry superiors was all it took for his tongue to tie knots around itself. That left the explaining to Burt.

“We infiltrated the prison, exactly as planned,” Burt spoke, steady and calm despite the harsh eyes on him, “Got in undetected, found the Chief and the Right Hand, broke them out. No problems. Then on the way out, we ran into a guard who wasn’t on the roster. Macbeth shot him dead, but not before he signaled to the rest of the prison that we were there. From there, it was only a matter of time before somebody got hurt,” Burt sighed and looked at the ground, “It’s just a shame it was the Chief, I suppose.”

He wasn’t lying, but Sven noticed how Burt didn’t mention the magic crystal. Or how Reginald had to save him from it. Or how Sven had somehow managed to knock down a prison fence wall with a single punch. He didn’t bring up Gremlin or Macbeth’s mistakes either. From the way he put it, it sounded almost... inevitable. A tragic accident that couldn’t be avoided. Sven could almost believe it himself.

Of course, that wasn’t the truth, though. Sven stepped forward. Somebody had to take responsibility for this mess, and he was the leader. It fell on him.

“What happened to the Chief is my fault,” He confessed, “I brought a secret weapon onto the mission, and it didn’t go off quite like I’d planned. The- the Chief had to save me. That’s how he got hurt.”

It was Macbeth, surprisingly, who put a comforting hand on Sven’s shoulder. “Hey, it ain’t your fault, kid.”

Surprisingly, being treated like a small child wasn’t exactly helping Sven’s guilt.

“Thank you,” One of the Toppat Elites – Fredrickson, Sven recalled – nodded to him, “for your honesty, my boy.”

“Honesty’s not exactly a Toppat virtue, Gene,” Cross scolded, then turned her ire back onto Sven, “What exactly _was_ this secret weapon, anyway?”

Sven swallowed, and began to spill everything out all at once, “Well, during this raid a while back, Witch and I picked up this magic crystal, she said it was a Deference Crystal or something, but turns out it was actually some sort of time magic, and she taught me how to use the time magic and it, let me tell you, it is _not_ easy to use time magic, I mean, first of all, it can’t just drop you off anywhere, you have to create sort of a jumping point, Witch said it was easier to imagine it like saves on a video game file, so that’s how I’ve sort of been viewing it, and it became a lot easier after that, then jumping back is a whole other, completely _different_ skill, and it’s just as hard to do, because you have to reach backwards in time, and that is one hell of a confusing thing to do, because-”  
  


“ENOUGH, Sven,” Ms. Cross shouted with a scowl. Her voice called everyone’s attention to her, even the Right Hand sitting behind her, “Macbeth, give me the short version.”

“Kid could time travel, I guess,” He shrugged, “I mean, I don’t _remember_ time traveling, but I do sort of remember a dog biting my ankle, which didn’t actually happen. I dunno. Shit’s confusing. Crystal blew up, though.”

“And that’s what put the Chief in this state?” She scowled.

“Yup.”

“And Sven, what on EARTH made you think to bring this thing without running it by the board?”

It wasn’t Sven, or Macbeth, but Burt who responded to her, “I’m sorry WE forgot to tell you about that ma’am,” He shrugged. Even without a clear tone of anger, the lack of respect or patience in Burt’s voice was clear, “We were kind of busy making sure the mission to rescue the chiefs actually went ahead before we all got caught. It only took two days for the board to decide we could even bring two people onto the mission, we didn’t want to risk the chiefs being moved by making you decide on even more pointless dribble.”

“I say, Curtis!” Scowled Poshley, stamping his fancy cane on the ground. He didn’t even need a cane, he just thought it was too posh an accessory to leave out. “You’d do well to show some respect! If the Right Hand was the board’s decision, you’d have been kicked out on your rear ages ago!”

“And what, put you in the role of clan protector?” Burt smiled and shrugged, “As if you’d ever shot anything but champagne corks in your life.”

Now, watching rich people squabble wasn’t exactly a favourite pastime of Sven’s, but there was something mesmerizing about watching five people who hadn’t seen action in years squabble over a failed mission they knew so very little about. Burt kept fueling the fire, too, which probably wasn’t good for his position in the clan’s future, but it sure made things interesting. Macbeth, also a board member (that was easy to forget, sometimes) joined into the fight, and Gremlin, too afraid to really say anything, backed into a corner and tried to pretend she didn’t exist. Even the Right Hand Man and the Chief were watching.

...

Wait, the Chief was watching?

Sven blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking back at the lone figure lying in the corner of the room, and sure enough, Reginald’s eyes were open, watching them. In his surprise, he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Chief?”

All the squabbling dropped into dead silence as everyone turned to the bed. Right Hand Man, already sitting by his side, turned and leaned over the Chief, softly whispering, “Reg?”

The Chief was, indeed, awake. But something clearly wasn’t right. His gaze was far off and glassy, as if he wasn’t seeing anything at all, and the once vibrant blue-green colour of his eyes had dulled to a stoney gray. He didn’t respond to the call of his subordinates, or his beloved Right Hand. He simply continued starring forward, face blank, body still. Looking him directly in the eyes made Sven shiver.

It was like looking directly at a corpse.

The Right Hand either didn’t get the same feeling from looking Chief Reginald in the eyes, or was better at ignoring that cold shiver down his back than Sven was, because he turned the Chief onto his back and looked him dead in those cold, cold eyes.

“Reg,” He breathed out, like a prayer, “Reg, can you hear me?”

Reginald didn’t respond.

“C’mon, don’t do this. I know you can hear me. You... you rememba’ what ya promised me, yeah? That we’d do this together? You can’t leave me now. You promised,” The Right hand reached down the front of his shirt, pulling out a plain chain adorned with a golden ring, “You _promised._ ”

Nobody said anything. Not even Carol Cross, who silently averted her gaze from the scene.

Reginald didn’t respond.

“...a’ight, I get it,” The Right Hand Man tucked the ring back into his shirt, “You’re sick right now, yeah? Whatver that crystal did to ya, it fucked with yer brain. That’s al’ight. I pulled ya out of that explosion in Cancoon. I nursed ya through Chicken Pox when we found out the ‘ard way your parents were lazy fucks. I broke ya outta that mob den when Terrance left ya behind. I’ve saved your life time and time before, and I can do it again,” The Right Hand Man leaned down, pressing his forehead against their poor, sick Chief’s, “So hang in there, Love. I’ll bring ya back ta me. I promise.”

Reginald didn’t respond.

Sven swallowed past the lump in his throat. Suddenly the air was heavy, and his eyes burned. He needed to get out there, be anywhere but there. Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned around and silently slipped out of the room. He walked, and kept walking, and managed to make it all the way down the hallway before the weight became too much. Sven collapsed to the ground and sobbed.

What had he done? What the _hell_ had he done?

“Hey,” Burt’s voice was somewhere above him. Had he watched Sven flee? Or merely followed the sound of pathetic wailing? “You doing alright?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Sven barked, then immediately retracted, “No, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself,” Sven buried his head in his hands, “I broke the Chief, Burt.”

Burt had always had a tendency to pull wisdom, or some other impossible trick, out of his sleeve when Sven needed it most, so Sven half expected some fount of knowledge that would instantly make him feel better. Instead, Burt shrugged, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean you can’t fix him,” Burt plopped down next to him, adjusted his top hat, then put a hand on the floor between them. Sven accepted the silent invitation and placed his hand on top of Burt’s, letting his former right hand grasp it and rub circles into his palm, “Remember when I screwed up those coordinates and we flew headfirst into a military ambush?”

That had been so long ago. Sven had only just come under Reginald’s tutelage then, and they’d nearly lost the airship because Burt had put the military pilots several dozen miles south of where they actually were. The Right Hand Man had, rightfully, chewed him out over it, and Reginald gently told him that he expected better of them and man, if there was one thing worse than the Right Hand’s anger, it was the Chief’s disappointment.

“I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you cry,” Sven noted, smiling sadly, “You were so sure we were going to just drop you.”

“And you said...?”

Sven paused and thought, “And I said... something about tomorrow, didn’t I? ‘There’s always tomorrow’, maybe?” But not even pseudo-wise teenage Sven would have said something that corny.

“You said ‘So what if you hit rock bottom today? I bet by tomorrow, you’ll be back at sea level.’”

Yeah, Sven thought with a snort, that sounded more like something he’d have said. God, teenage Sven was so embarrassing.

“And then you found the Bandanna Clan’s secret silver stash just the next week,” Sven remembered, “Reg- the Chief gave you a whole toast to yourself at dinner that night. And the Right Hand Man took you along so you could see the results of your hard work yourself. Everyone was so proud.” Sven smiled wistfully. He had been proud too, of course, but in a vicarious sort of way, like seeing a younger version of himself finally get the recognition he deserved. He himself didn’t start thinking of Burt as Burt until they started hanging out shortly after this event. It was then that he learned Burt was actually two years older than him.

“My point is, that even if you think you’ve screwed up so badly things will never be okay again,” Burt paused, looking down at shoes as he got lost in those bad memories, “There’s always a way to fix it. You just have to keep searching.”

Burt smiled, and while his heart was still heavy, Sven managed to smile back.

“Thanks,” Sven let his head fall onto the other’s shoulder, “I needed to hear that.”

They sat silently for a moment, just basking the other’s presence. Quiet moments between them were uncommon, as usually one of them always had something to prattle on about, but when they did occur, they were always the moments Sven felt most at peace, and this was no exception.

Naturally, of course, some idiot had to ruin it all.

“Guys! Guys! Guys-!” Sven didn’t know this Toppat by name, just that they’d been freshly recruited when the Station had gone up. As such, he didn’t think to show the respect that was customary of a Toppat to their chief, which was, in this particular moment, not a bad thing at all, “You will NEVER guess what just happened?”

“The Chief almost died?” Burt guessed.

This puzzled the newcomer so much that his excitement dulled for a moment to stare at Burt, maybe wondering whether he was serious or not. Sven wasn’t sure what answer he came to, but he responded with a hesitant, “Er, no. It’s news from outside the clan,” The his excitement picked back up again, “But it’s pretty big news! Bigger than anything that’s happened in the last hundred years!”

Sven kind of doubted that, but asked anyways, “And what’s so big, friend? Out with it, the suspense is killing us!”

The Toppat recruit glanced between them both, let out a gleeful sequel, and spat out, “The Monsters are BACK! They reemerged from underneath Mount Ebott just last night!”

Burt sat up straight, unfortunately forcing Sven off his shoulder in the process. The two clansmen exchanged a look that the recruit wouldn’t get.

Monsters. The originators of magic. Experts on the lost arts of the past.

Maybe there was hope for Chief Reginald after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is also on my tumblr, Knightmareaceblue!
> 
> This contains... a lot of conjecture about the Toppats as an organization in the post-GSPI endings. Basically, I just put everyone where they needed to be for the story to proceed. Hope it doesn't distract too much. Anyway, we won't be with the majority of the Toppats for too long. The real fun begins after we take off to help Reginald. Hope you enjoy!


	3. The Monster Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the Undertale Characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... seeing as Christmas is literally tomorrow, it might take a little longer for the next chapter to come out. Hope you all understand!
> 
> Also, screw Sans' stupid jacket. Colouring it gave me way more trouble than it should have.

****

**The feeling of the sun on your face fills you with DETERMINATION.**

Mount Ebott had been a place long since abandoned by humanity. Every single human who lived in the nearby city knew of the place, and of the legends that surrounded it. Not one person who ascended the mountain has ever returned. Those of the more skeptical mindset might have claimed that the mountain was unstable, or dangerous, or populated with feral carnivores. Those who remembered the old legends would tell you that it was a curse, placed on the mountains by the monsters before humanity sealed them away forever. Regardless of the true reason, nobody who had the intention of coming back ever climbed Mount Ebott.

So it was very peculiar to see groups of people traveling down the mountainside paths. Even more so that these people were not human.

Indeed, if one were to look more closely, they’d see that the groups consisted of bipedal dog people, sentient flames garbed in tasteful clothing, ghostly creatures with meek expressions, and other such impossible lifeforms. And at the head of this pilgrimage was the strangest creature of them all: a small human child, no older than ten.

The child’s name was Frisk, and they seemed quite happy to be making the long descent down from the peak of Ebott with this group of strange creatures. The smiled, and constantly stopped the group to point out things of interest along the path. Under normal circumstances, Frisk might not have seemed that extraordinary. They wore plain jean pants and a plain striped shirt. Their hair was messy but simple, and on their face was adorned a fresh bandage. In one hand they held a simple stick, likely picked up on the mountainside, and would use it as a baton, or an extension of their limbs, or a toy to play fetch with, if one of the dogs began to get restless. But it was not the child’s humanity that made them special. Rather it was their determination, the way they survived impossible fights and formed friendships with those who once despised their kind.

Frisk was, indeed, a special child. The monsters who followed behind them thought so, too.

Leading the pack with Frisk was the former Queen of the monsters herself, Lady Toriel. Despite the simplicity of her plain purple robes she carried herself with a sense of calm dignity, carefully pushing the lower branches of shorter trees out of the way so they wouldn’t get caught on her horns. Keeping a respectful distance behind them was her ex-husband, the King of all monsters himself, Asgore Dreemurr. He was certainly quite the intimidating force, larger than even the Queen with long, pointed horns and garbed in shining bronze armour and a rich purple cloak. But despite that he held himself with a soft kindness, stopping to indulge Frisk’s every observation and asking silly questions just to hear the long forgotten sound of a child’s laughter. It was these three that paved the way down the mountain, making sure nothing would impede any of the monsters’ march.

There were more monsters that were a part of this scouting party: the skeleton brothers Sans and Papyrus, bickering playfully about the pronunciation of a particular plant’s name, as well as the former Royal Guard Captain Undyne, a merwoman, who was admiring the ramblings of the dinosaur doctor, Alphys. The group had all been Frisk’s enemies at some point, japing and attacking and manipulating them as they crossed the Underground, but each one of them had come to care for the small child in their own ways. Whenever Frisk turned to look at the Monsters following behind them, they felt a warmth in their chest, and wondered if this was what it was like to have a family.

“HUMAN- ER, FRISK,” Papyrus, the taller skeleton brother, suddenly called out. They all knew the child’s name now, but old habits died hard, “THE SUN IS RUNNING AWAY FROM US. HAVE WE DONE SOMETHING TO OFFEND IT? SANS, HAVE YOU BEEN CHASING AWAY THE SUN WITH YOUR AWFUL PUNS?”

Frisk might have answered – they normally weren’t a big talker, but they’d grown comfortable enough around the monsters that they didn’t mind it now – but they were beaten to the punch by Dr. Alphys, “Actually, Papyrus, the sun sets every single night! See, the Earth is actually a sphere – well, ellipsoid, but that’s not important – and it’s simultaneously revolving around the sun and spinning on it’s axis! We make one full lap around the sun every year, and every day one side of the planet faces towards the sun, and one faces away. So the sun’s not running away from us. The Earth is just spinning us away from it, and that’s why we get night time! And in around twelve hours, the Earth will spin us so we’re facing towards the sun, so it’ll look like it’s rising up somewhere over in that direction!” Alphys pointed East, in the opposite direction of the sunset.

“WOWIE! THAT WAS VERY EDUCATIONAL! IT’S NICE TO KNOW THAT WE’RE ON SUCH A HARD-WORKING PLANET, SPINNING US SO FAST EVERY SINGLE DAY!” Papyrus nodded, approving of the planet’s rotation.

“If you ask me,” The merwoman, former Guard Captain Undyne, called out to them as she walked casually next to Alphys, “The planet’s not spinning fast enough! Twelve whole hours just to spin us around to the sun? I could spin us faster than that!”

“Uh, well,” A combination of dating advice from Frisk and facing her deepest fears had given Alphys a much needed shot of confidence from when the human had first met her, but she was obviously still uneasy about correcting or offending Undyne, “If it spun too much faster, we’d actually all be thrown off into space. I think. Um, Sans knows more about it than I do.”

Sans was keeping a casual walking pace, hands in his pockets, grinning that same joker grin he’d greeted Frisk with back in the forests of Snowdin. Unlike Papyrus, who was incredibly expressive, his face didn’t seem to move at all as he responded, “eh, that sounds like a lot of math, alphys. seems like too much work to calculate something that wont even happen.”

“Really?” Nobody, not even Toriel, should have been surprised by San’s laziness at this point, but Alphys seemed genuinely befuddled, “You used to love that kind of stuff! Theoretical calculations about space and physics and planetary movement...”

Undyne patted Alphys on the shoulder, looking confused and a little concerned, “You’re talking about Sans, right? The same guy who slept through sentry orientation and let me call him by the wrong last name for two years because he was too lazy to correct me?”

“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LET HER DO THAT!” Papyrus stamped his foot, a gesture Frisk had seen him perform in the Underground when something frustrated him – usually his brother, “SHE WAS SO EMBARRASSED WHEN I FINALLY TOLD HER!”

“yeah, i can understand why that would make you...”

Papyrus seemed to realize what was coming, “SANS, PLEASE DON’T-”

“... _femur_ -ous.”

“ARG!” Papyrus, once again, stamped his foot, “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? THAT WASN’T EVEN A LITTLE CLEVER!”

“Now, now, Papyrus,” The once Queen gently scolded from her spot next to Frisk. She had that smile on her face, the one she had when she talked about snail facts or teased Frisk for eating too fast, so the child had to hide their smile as the Queen continued, “There’s no need to get _bone-t_ out of shape!”

“UN. BE. LIEVABLE!” The skeleton shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. But Frisk could see the way his mouth twitched as he struggled not to smile. Papyrus had never made any secret of his desire for friendship, and now he had a whole cabal of friends to spend time with.

**Papyrus seems a lot happier now.**

Frisk nodded, then giggled a little.

“ARG! YOU TWO ARE CORRUPTING THE POOR HUMAN!” With that, the taller skeleton raced up and scooped the child into his arms, which only made Frisk giggle more, “DON’T WORRY, FRISK! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL PROTECT YOU FROM THOSE HORRIBLE PUNS!”

“HEY!” Undyne was the only person who could even get close to Papyrus in volume, and she showed that off proudly as she raced forward and plucked her little punk friend out of Papyrus’ grasp, “If anyone’s gonna be carrying this little rascal, it’ll be ME!”

Of course, this prompted Papyrus to try to grab Frisk back, and a playful bout of tug-of-war began between the fish woman and her skeleton pupil. It was only when Frisk caught sight of Toriel clenching her fiery fists did they realize that maybe this _wasn’t_ the best idea.

Fortunately, that was when Asgore, who had been mostly silent the entire walk down, decided to reach over and gently pull Frisk away from the two bickering guards, who didn’t resist at all as he whisked Frisk away from them and set them down on the ground, his large claws delicate and careful. This didn’t make Toriel any happier, so Frisk thanked him with a smile and a soft boop on the nose, then ran ahead of the group past a nearby thicket of bushes.

And directly into a squadron of armed soldiers.

There were only five humans that were a part of this squadron; a woman, two identical looking men, a dark-haired man with a scowl, and an older man with enough decoration on his chest to let even Frisk know he was in charge. It was the old man that Frisk had run into, crashing headfirst into his leg and falling down on the ground.

The older man was kneeling next to Frisk in an instant, “Are you okay, kiddo? What are you doing so far from Ebott City?”

“Umm...” Was Frisk’s thoughtful and eloquent response.

“My Child!” Called Toriel, and her voice caused Frisk to stiffen in fear. Not from their new mother-figure, no, but because _this was an army man_. What would he do when he saw the monsters? Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to come up with anything, because Toriel was already crossing the underbrush, “Frisk, my child, please do not run off like that! You-”

The scowling man reacted immediately to the monsters’ presence, pushing both Frisk and the older man behind him as he pointed his gun at Toriel. Then Undyne responded, glowing blue spears twirling around her as she leapt in to protect her once Queen. Tensions ran high as the other three soldiers immediately readied their weapons. This was going badly.

**Everyone is reacting to you being trouble.**

Right. Frisk’s safety was why everyone was so panicked. That meant Frisk was the only one who could stop this. They broke free of the older man’s hold and ran straight into the center of the battle, hands outstretched in a universal ‘Stop!’ motion. “Everyone! Please! We don’t have to fight!”

“THE HUMAN IS RIGHT!” Papyrus also ran into the center of the fray. Bones had grown up from the ground between Frisk and the humans... and Frisk and the monsters. It seemed Papyrus was taking no risks with his young friend’s safety. “WE SHOULDN’T BE FIGHTING EACH OTHER AT ALL! UNDYNE, HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?”

Undyne scowled, but the spears behind her all disappeared. She stood up straight, still on guard, but no longer openly hostile. The older man walked to the side of the soldiers, visible in their peripheral, and made a gesture Frisk didn’t understand that caused them all to lower their guns... all but the scowling man.

“Sir, you’re not seriously about to trust these _monsters_ are you?” The scowling man pointed his gun over Frisk’s head, directly at the biggest threat: Asgore. “I grew up in this area: I know the legends. Nobody who climbs Mount Ebott ever returns for a reason. These... things must have eaten them or something!”

“Eaten?” Toriel looked vaguely disturbed by the suggestion, covering her mouth with one hand. It occurred to Frisk that Toriel had likely found and knew _all_ of the souls Asgore had collected over the years. To suggest that she would have eaten them must have been horrible for her.

The older man looked sternly at the scowling man, “Mister Price,” He called, his tone loud and serious, “Are you disobeying a direct order from your superior?”

Mr. Price looked up at the old man once, then back at his rifle, then finally lowered the weapon. He was most certainly not pleased about it, but the danger had passed for the moment.

“I apologize for my subordinate,” The older man spoke clearly, professionally. He walked to where Frisk and Papyrus were hunkered down between the two parties and knelled next to Frisk, fully aware of both humans and monsters watching him with cautious eyes. He extended a friendly hand out, “My name is Hubert Galeforce. I’m a General of the military. What’s your name, kiddo?”

Frisk looked the man dead in the eye, took his hand, and said as calmly as they could, “Frisk.”

**General Galeforce looks at you with tired eyes. It seems like he hasn’t slept in a while.**

Now that they got a good look at him, the General had heavy bags under his eyes. He was smiling kindly, but it felt like Asgore’s smile when they’d first met him: a mask, hiding a painful burden from the rest of the world. His shoulders were hunched and stiff, and his uniform, now that Frisk was getting a better look at it, was disheveled. They wondered when the last time the man slept was, but politely refrained from asking about it.

“And these monsters haven’t hurt you at all?” He asked, not impolitely.

“No way! They’re my friends!” Frisk slipped away from his grasp to go run at their new mother-figure full force, leaping into her arms and laughing as she caught them and spun them around. When Toriel released Frisk, the human child continued to hold onto her hand as they spoke, gaining confidence from the unbridled affection that Toriel radiated in their presence, “When I fell into the Underground, I got pretty scared. But my friends helped me find my way out! Miss Toriel baked me a pie, and Papyrus played fun games with me, and Undyne tried to teach me how to cook, and Alphys took me to the garbage dump!” That last one earned the dinosaur a funny look from Toriel. The Alphys of the past might have tried to come up with excuses or explanations, or perhaps have fleed from the situation entirely, but Alphys merely blushed and averted her eyes.

**You decide not to mention how most of these actives came after they all tried to kill you.**

Frisk held their tongue. That was not important.

“I see..” The General stroked his beard in thought, “This sounds like quite the story. Why don’t you all come with me back to our camp? We can provide you with food and lodging for the night.”

“That would be most generous of you,” Asgore spoke out at last, his deep voice surprisingly soft against the dusk winds, “I am Asgore, King of the monsters, and this is my... ex-wife, Toriel, and Frisk, our ambassador between monster and humankind.”

The General took a shivering breath when Asgore approached; anybody would be intimidated, with a ten-foot tall goat man standing over him. But he extended his hand, keeping his voice neutral and his tone polite, “A pleasure to meet you,” Once he had released Asgore’s claw, he turned to Frisk, and Frisk felt Toriel’s paw clench their hand tighter, “Ambassador?”

“T-that’s right,” Frisk squeezed Toriel’s paw and stepped forward, “It’s my job to make sure the monsters are treated right. I’m going to protect them!”

**The thought of protecting your friends fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

The soldiers still looked uneasy, but with the exception of Mr. Price, none of them were openly hostile. General Galeforce looked openly impressed by Frisk’s gall.

“Well, you’ve certainly got your priorities straight,” The General waved for the monsters to follow him, “Our camp is about an hour’s walk this way. We’ll make sure you’re all comfortable before we... discuss the situation.”

Initially, the walk back to camp was tense. The monsters, Undyne in particular, were on the defensive, prepared to attack the second they needed to. The soldiers were no less anxious, not a single one of them holstering their weapons. Mr. Price in particular kept glaring back at the monsters with pure contempt. Frisk made sure to stay in sight of all of the soldiers, just to be certain they wouldn’t change their minds and gun down the mostly defenseless monsters.

Attitudes changed when the sun finally set along the horizon. The stars started appearing, one by one, and Frisk could hear gasps of amazement as monsters saw the stars for the first time in their lives. Alphys pointed out constellations to Papyrus, and one of the twins got excited and started sharing the stories behind said constellations.

“...and that one is called Centaurus. See there, that’s the human-shaped head,” Alphys traced her finger in the sky. With a touch of her electricity magic, a picture began forming in the air, a glowing yellow form that connected the dots in the sky to complete the picture, “and that’s the horse-like body.”

The twin Konrad, who had begun walking with them to better tell the stories, jumped in, “There are a lot of centaurs in history, so nobody’s 100 percent certain _which_ centaur it’s supposed to honour, but most historians are pretty sure its Chiron, the ancient teacher of heroes. According to legend, he lived at the base of a mountain and learned the arts of healing, archery, and song from the gods, which he passed on to the young humans who came to him for tutelage.”

“So humans _don’t_ think all monsters are evil?” Undyne asked, “’Cause that’s kind of what we were always taught.”

“I, um, I think a lot of it was lost to history,” Konrad rubbed the back of his neck. Slowly he was growing more comfortable around the monsters, but Undyne was intimidating even among her peers. Frisk couldn’t blame him for being scared. “We certainly have plenty of legends about evil monsters.”

“But monsters aren’t evil!” Frisk objected insistently, “They’re nicer than any humans I’ve ever met!”

“ **..Must not know a lot of humans...” Mr. Price is muttering under his breath.**

Frisk cast a glare ahead of them at the man, who quickly turned to look ahead when he realized the child was staring at him. What was his problem?

“There were atrocities on both sides of the battle, little one,” Asgore told them gravely. When they’d first met Asgore, the old goat looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and sometimes the lasting damage of that weight still showed on his face, “There’s no such thing as a good war.”

“Though you can be the better person, with a little effort.” Toriel responded coldly. Asgore winced; at Frisk’s request, Toriel was trying not to start any fights, but it seemed she still couldn’t help herself at points. Toriel sighed and pet Frisk’s head when the child looked up at her in disappointment, but she didn’t apologize. Comforting Asgore fell to Undyne and Alphys, who each took a place at his side and gently consoled him.

They went on like this for some time before the General stopped them, “We’re here.”

The encampment wasn’t anything special. Green tents were sprouted up in neat rows, meant to be collapsed in an instant. The soldiers that hung around were obviously waiting for orders, but as the monsters filed through each one stiffened and stood at attention, obviously unsettled. Frisk would stare back at every human they caught and put the ‘creepy expressionless child’ moniker to good use.

They reached an area near the end of the camp where there was clear space. Hubert nodded back at the King, “I’ll have my men begin setting up tents for your people to stay in for the night. If any of your people would be willing to help, that would-”

Before he could finish Undyne whistled loudly, and the Royal Guard of Snowdin, consisting primarily of bipedal canines, came bounding up to her. Their former Captain called out loudly, “ALRIGHT YOU DOGS! SHOW THESE HUMANS HOW THE ROYAL GUARD SETS UP CAMP!”

The dogs howled simultaneously before bounding forward, grabbing tents as they ran to set them up. Some of the soldiers, including Konrad and his twin, exchanged glances before joining them reluctantly.

General Galeforce watched them for a moment before deciding that they probably wouldn’t kill each other if he left them alone, so he beckoned for Frisk and their companions to follow him. Frisk did, along with Toriel, Asgore, Alphys, Papyrus, and Undyne. Sans was probably around somewhere, but had probably decided this entire thing was too much work for him and disappeared. He might have been sleeping somewhere, or he might be pranking some poor, unsuspecting human. Either way, he probably wouldn’t cause too much trouble. That required energy he didn’t have.

They ended up in what might have been a strategical planning tent. A cot in the corner suggested someone might have been sleeping there, once. The monsters gathered around the table, with Galeforce at once side, Toriel and Asgore at the other, and Frisk standing between them. They were a little too short to be able to see over the edge of the table, so Mr. Price grabbed a wooden stool and set it down at the monsters’ side of the table before joining the General on his side. For a moment, nobody spoke a word.

Then the General inhaled deeply, “Thank you all for joining me. It’s an honour to have you here.”

“The honour is ours, General,” Asgore bowed his head respectfully. With the formalities out of the way, the conversation could truly begin.

“I hope you all understand how delicate the situation is,” General Galeforce spoke with grave intensity, the same kind Asgore talked with as he and Frisk walked to the final battle, “Monsters are a lost memory for most humans, the subject of legends. I didn’t even think monsters existed until I saw you for myself.”

“I understand,” Asgore nodded, “Our reemergence will certainly cause quite a stir.”

“...as such, I feel it is best to keep your existence quiet until my superiors can discuss the ramifications of your presence.”

Frisk frowned. That was a lot of big words, but they understood enough of them to understand the situation. “Does that mean you’re trapping us here?”

“Not forever,” The General promised, and he looked so apologetic Frisk almost wanted to forgive him. Almost. “But we need you to stay here until we can sort out the legal procedures involved. We’ll need to get into contact with the Mayor of Ebott City, the Governor, the Senate... there’s a lot involved in inducting such a large group of people into society, and we have to make sure to make a good impression on the public. We can’t risk any incidents, and the public can get pretty rowdy when they’re scared.”

Asgore nodded sagely, knowing from experience that what the General was saying was true.

“So what?!” Undyne pounded the table with her fists, “We’re supposed to just sit around and wait for you all to decide if we get to live on the surface or not?”

“We don’t want to keep you prisoner-” The General tried to explain, but got cut off by Undyne.

“So why are you keeping us prisoner?! Haven’t we suffered enough?!”

Alphys pulled on Undyne’s arm. She whispered something unintelligible in the fish woman’s ear, causing her to calm down, if only by a little.

**Alphys is whispering nervous predictions about the Humans’ reactions. They mostly involve the weapons we passed on the way in.**

Well, wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

“But Mister Galeforce, how long will all of this take?” Frisk asked.

General Galeforce, in turn, sighed, “I honestly don’t know, kiddo. It could be weeks before we get everything in place for a meeting.”

Weeks?

Traveling the Underground had felt like it had taken days, but that was mostly because of the constant deaths and resets. They’d actually been underground for less than 48 hours. It took them that long to do the impossible, why would it take so long for some humans to sit down and _talk_? Sure, if it weren’t so important, Frisk might understand the delay. But this was literally the future of humans and monsters. They couldn’t push a few things back for something as serious as this?

“Not good enough,” Frisk decided. They were the link between humans and monsters; it was their job to push for things like this, “These monsters spent literal _centuries_ in the Underground! Most of them hadn’t even seen the sun before today! I won’t let them be trapped in another prison because of _politics_!”

Toriel gently pushed Frisk down into their stool. Apparently, they’d stood up on top of it without thinking.

“The punk’s right!” Undyne, as always, spoke her mind loudly and proudly, “You can’t expect us to wait around for some _human_ to tell us we can’t live here!”

“Now, Undyne, don’t act rashly,” Asgore scolded, “We don’t want to fight the humans. We want to live in peace with them. And this is the best way to figure out how to do that.”

Mr. Price made a disbelieving tutting sound with his mouth. The General took a moment to glare at him, but other than that nobody really reacted to his presence.

“I understand that you all must be frustrated,” The General replied coolly, “But you have to understand, these things take time. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and we need to make sure this transition is safe not just for humanity, but for monsterkind as well. I, for one, don’t want to see any wars anytime soon.”

Toriel, much to Frisk’s surprise, was the one to respond, “I agree. We don’t need to rush into anymore conflicts.”

“So, what, we just lie down and take whatever they give us?!” Undyne growled at the former Queen. The Captain of the Royal Guard had never been one for patience, and what little she had was certainly being tested now. “And what will we do if they decide we’re too dangerous to keep around?! Just roll over and die?!”

“I won’t let-” The General tried to interject, but was interrupted by Asgore.

“Undyne, I understand your frustrations, but we need to be reasonable. Peace is our best option at the moment.”

“And what happened to you old man?!” The fish woman scowled and gripped the edge of the table so tightly her fingers started to create dents, “You always went on about ‘The Good of Monsterkind’, and now you’re just rolling over for these humans?!”

“I, uh, I think we should...” Alphys’ voice was shaky, but she tried her best to speak aloud, “We should probably... focus on improving the monster opinion on humans... I mean, a lot of them are pretty hostile to humankind-”

“I am doing what is best for the whole of monsterkind, Undyne,” Assured Asgore, as though Alphys hadn’t spoken at all.

“That seems sensible,” Agreed the General, eyeing the bickering monsters but not furthering their discussion, “Humans are afraid, too. An outreach program would be a good first step-”

“You’re doing what makes YOU feel good Asgore!” Undyne practically screeched, once again stamping the table with her hands. This time, she did it hard enough to break it, though she hardly seemed to care, “You’re not thinking about your people! You’re thinking about how bad you feel about that kid!” It was unknown which kid Undyne was referring to ( **Though you have a pretty good feeling you know** ), but her words cut Asgore deeply, and Frisk noticed Mr. Price tense up again. “But it’s not fair to _them_ ,” Undyne pointed out at the monsters, who had finished pitching tents and were making themselves at home for the night, “That your guilt means they have to be pushed around by some bossy, jerkish, _evil_ little-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH UNDYNE!”

Frisk jumped. Papyrus had been silent throughout the negotiations so far, but his loud voice cut down any conversation that was happening around him. Why he hadn’t interfered earlier Frisk could only speculate, but his eyes sparkled with a righteous fury. The tall skeleton was very rarely angry; Frisk didn’t think they’d seem him get more than annoyed in any of their runs through the Underground. But now he glared at Undyne fiercely enough that she calmed down, if only out of shock.

“WE ARE ALL TIRED AND FRUSTRATED, BUT CALLING ALL HUMANS EVIL IS TOO FAR!” He stared at her, perhaps expecting her to retort, then continued when she didn’t, “I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM. I KNOW HUMANS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR SEALING US UNDERGROUND IN THE FIRST PLACE! BUT YOU CAN’T JUDGE THESE NEW PEOPLE BASED ON WHAT THEIR ANCESTORS DID!

“ _ **DOESN’T EVERYONE DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE?**_ ”

Papyrus’ rant might have continued, but the General suddenly called out, “ _Enough_.” His voice wasn’t particularly loud or angry, but something about the tone made everybody stop. He sounded strange, like every ounce of his being was being used to say that word. He had adjusted his hat so the rim hid his eyes.

**The General’s eyes are wet. He looks like he’s about to cry.**

Frisk gulped, then nervously asked, “Mister Galeforce?”

“We... will continue this discussion tomorrow. Rupert, make sure everyone is settled in for the night.”

Mr. Price spoke up from his position behind Galeforce, sounding gentler than he’d ever sounded before, “Sir...”

“ _Goodnight_ , Mr. Price,” And with that the General walked out, his pace quick. For a moment the entire party just stood around the table in silence.

“...what the heck just happened?” Undyne asked. She seemed to have shocked out of her anger by Papyrus and the General’s actions.

“I DIDN’T OFFEND HIM OR ANYTHING, DID I?” Papyrus clasped his hands together, “I DON’T THINK I DID ANYTHING RUDE...”

“Y-you’re fine, Papyrus,” Alphys assured him, though she also looked quite confused, “That was unexpected, though.”

“It was a little rude,” Toriel said, though her tone was not unkind. She, like everyone else, seemed nervous by the sudden change of the General’s behavior, “I didn’t expect him to be the kind of person who would walk out of an important meeting like this.”

“Oi, go easy on the old man,” Rupert Price finally spoke out. For the first time he wasn’t openly hostile to the Monsters, but he looked tired all of a sudden. “It’s been a hard week on all of us... I don’t know if I should be telling ya this, but...” Something changed in Rupert’s expression. His face was still stone hard, but a crack allowed a little bit of grief to shine through, “...the old man just lost his son.”

Some gasps flew over the table. Toriel’s hands immediately went to her mouth, and Frisk could only imagine the terrible memories that were swirling in her head. Asgore’s eyes began to water, though the old goat managed to keep himself composed. Everyone else seemed shocked into silence. A momentary hush fell over the room. Frisk’s chest felt tight with both their own pity and a regret that they knew didn’t belong to them.

To break the tension, Frisk said aloud, “I’m... so sorry.” More silence fell over the group, so after a brief pause, Frisk asked, “What was he like?”

“Aw man, Charles was great,” Rupert seemed to smile, though there was a sadness to it Frisk didn’t quite understand. Maybe they had to know this Charles, “From what ‘e told me, kid grew up without a family of his own. Didn’t ‘ave anywhere to go during his first ‘oliday leave, so the General invited ‘im to come to his ‘ome, and they’ve been tight ever since. Never signed any papers or nothin’, but... we all knew.”

**This story stirs memories in the back of your** **mind** **.**

And it wasn’t just Frisk who was thinking of a certain someone else. Toriel sighed and looked off to one side, “I understand how he feels. That poor man.”

“To have to deal with a situation as large as this one while going through the loss of a child,” Asgore’s sympathy was plain, on his face and in his voice, “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

Frisk’s stomach churned uncomfortably. Toriel and Asgore had two children before them – their son Asriel, who was theirs by blood, and... Chara, the first human to fall into the Underground. Thinking about the previous Royal Children made Frisk uncomfortable for more reasons than the obvious.

Because Asriel wasn’t dead anymore. He was a flower, a soulless unfeeling husk trapped in the Underground with nothing but his memories. The horrid thing had tormented Frisk the first time they’d awoken after falling, and had manipulated Papyrus into luring everyone to King Asgore’s castle so he could absorb their souls and obtain his true from as the prince of the Underground. Frisk felt bad for him, in both forms. He’s probably a flower again, by now. Plagued by memories of love that he can no longer feel. If he’d have let them, Frisk would have gladly brought him up to the surface with the rest of their family. But at this point, there was nothing more Frisk could do. Not without going back to before they were born to save the young prince, which was currently impossible.

As for Chara...

**Let’s not go down that route.**

“Oh, I remember Chara’s first holiday with us,” Asgore smiled nostalgically, staring at nothing in particular on the ceiling. “Humans had changed the name of the Winter Holiday, but we still had so many of the same traditions...”

“Chara taught me how to make hot chocolate,” Toriel recalled. Frisk realized that this was the kindest she had sounded when talking to or about Asgore in the entirety of time they’d known her, “We also baked cookies. Humans have come up with so many interesting recipes since we’ve been gone! I believe my personal favourite was the gingerbread.”

“And then Asriel kept sneaking into the kitchen to take them!” Asgore recalled, and laughed. Toriel laughed with him, for once, and feelings of unease welled in Frisk’s gut. It was hard to tell where they came from.

While the Boss Monsters regaled their subjects with tales of lost youth, Frisk quietly snuck out of the tent. It wasn’t that they felt unwanted, per say – more like they were out of place. Out of their depth. Chara and Asriel brought up so many confusing feelings within Frisk, and hearing Toriel and Asgore talk about them only made the confusion worse.

**Mom is going to worry if you take off without telling her.**

“What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Frisk mumbled, then walked into the newly defined monster section of the camp. A bunch of new tents, more than Frisk could count, had been raised up. Younger monsters and families were settling in for the night, washing up for bed or preparing dinners with fire magic. Some monsters were still running around, putting up new tents or transporting goods from place to place. They recognized quite a number of faces: Mettaton and Napstablook were in one of the larger tents, talking with Shyren. Hopefully Mettaton had finally opened up to his family. Monster Kid and their mom and dad were gathered outside around a fire, staring up at the stars. In one corner, Muffet and her spiders were selling spider goods at a ‘special’ discount. Frisk probably couldn’t afford any, but would stop by to drop off a few G anyways.

Most monsters seemed happy just to be on the surface. Frisk wondered how long that would last when they realized they couldn’t leave this camp.

The human child sighed, and took a deep breath. It was time to tell them.

**The homey smells of the camp fill you with DETERMINATION.**

_File saved._

“Everyone!” Frisk called. They climbed on top of a stump so that the crowd of Monsters could see them, “I need to tell you something!”

Monsters from all over stopped their cooking, their carrying, their selling. Mettaton and his ghostly family left their tent to watch them. Kid cheered and jumped up and down, which Frisk supposed was their version of waving a greeting at them. Frisk waved back, then steeled themselves. All eyes were on them: they had to get this right. They paused, breath, and remembered Toriel’s smile as she led them carefully across a room full of traps. That helped them relax.

“Okay, so we just spoke to the General!” Frisk announced. Out of their peripheral, they could see Undyne, Papyrus, and Alphys exiting the tent, followed by Asgore and Toriel. They gulped but continued, “For now, the plan is to stay here until we can meet with the people in charge of the country to discuss making monsters legal citizens! Until then...” This would be the hard part, “...we can’t leave.”

Frisk had expected the uproar, but perhaps hadn’t been entirely prepared for the sheer _intensity_ of it. Despite being familiar with everyone, Frisk couldn’t make out any recognizable voices; rather, it was like all of monsterkind had temporarily combined to let out one single, unanimous roar of discontent. They made the mistake of looking down at the faces of the Monsters closest to them, and found an equal mix of anger, sadness, and fear in each and every one.

The thing about monsters was that they didn’t just express themselves physically. Magic came as naturally to them as breathing did to humans, so they often cast dangerous spells without even thinking about it, or even realizing it in some cases. Frisk could recall instances in the Underground where monsters that hadn’t even been aware that Frisk was human caused them to reset simply by being too aggressively friendly. So Frisk once again found themselves bouncing to dodge the magical attacks that came flying at them.

Fortunately, that didn’t last very long. Toriel came to stand behind them the instant she saw they were in trouble. Her eyes bore a hole into every monster she passed, and her malicious intent radiated so clearly that monsters nearby immediately stopped what they were doing to give her space. By the time she’d come to stand behind Frisk, the danger had mostly passed, but her call of “SILENCE!” Still brought every single monster to a grinding halt.

Man, Frisk’s new Mom was the _coolest_.

“I get you’re all frustrated. I am too,” Frisk confided. The monsters all stared at them in silence, with sad, hopeful eyes. In the background, several soldiers gathered at the edge of the crowd: Rupert Price, Konrad and his twin, several others Frisk had seen on the way in. This was Frisk’s moment. They couldn’t screw this up.

“ **You are the future of Monsters and Humans...”**

They were DETERMINED.

“But we’ve already come so far! After the war, you all banded together to survive in the Underground! You built a home, braved the horrible cold, the dark swampland, the scorching heat, and created a brand new kingdom from scratch! For generations, you’ve all held on, become stronger. You’ve created hope for yourselves, and when I fell down into the Underground, you all shared that hope with me! You took care of me, you guided me! And when the time came, it was because of you all that the Barrier was broken!

“You’ve made great progress in just two days! Don’t feel discouraged. So what if the Humans don’t accept you yet? You’ll show them how wonderful and loving you all really are, and they’ll fall head over heels for you, just like I did! So just hold on a little longer! We’ll make our place in the world. Everyone! STAY DETERMINED!”

“STAY DETERMINED!” Called back the monsters. Whether or not the remembered the significance of the cry, the meaning it held to Frisk in particular, they remembered that during the final battle, Frisk had held on to their DETERMINATION to save them. It invigorated them, the way it invigorated Frisk when they’d faced off against Asriel. They cried out and cheered excitedly, and Toriel’s arms encircled Frisk from behind to hoist the child up.

**You can feel the hopes and dreams of all the** **m** **onsters on your** **shoulders** **.** **It fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

Rupert took a shuttering breath. He took a quick glance around, making sure nobody was watching, then took the recording device out of his pocket. It had captured everything; dialogue, video, photo evidence. Everything he would need to prove to the world that the monsters were back. The General would be furious if he found out, everybody would.

_Charles would be, too_.

Rupert shook his head. He couldn’t be thinking about that.

The monsters were dangerous. They’d proven that time and time again the past. Hell, they’d proven it with every poor human who had disappeared underneath Mount Ebott since they’d been sealed. They were horrible child-killers, and he couldn’t let them roam free. At least, not without giving the world a proper heads up.

There were select communication devices in the camp that could be connected to the internet, for the sake of communicating with family or important officials. Obtaining one wasn’t terribly difficult. Once he got his hands on it, Rupert punched up a social media site and began to download every video, every picture, every bit of audio he’d managed to collect. By the time his last piece of evidence was uploaded, comments had already started flooding into the first piece. Rupert logged out, set the device for a complete reset, and returned it.

He could get in so much trouble for this. He could probably be arrested for this, but Rupert didn’t care.

Those monsters were never going to hurt anyone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interesting factoid that was cut from the final version of the chapter: Galeforce wasn't originally on Ebott looking for the Monsters, or investigating the eruption. Sure, Mount Ebott erupted weirdly coloured smoke, but the city is far away enough that it wasn't exactly a high priority. He was on the Mountain because he knew humans who went there didn't come back, and, well, Henry's been missing for a little over a day now...


	4. My Only Friend In The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, back to Henry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I wanted to thank everyone for all the lovely comments! I responded to one with a question, but stopped responding because I was worried about accidentally spoiling something. But I do read all your comments, and they're all very sweet and motivational. Honestly, I'm just happy someone else enjoys my writing, lol.
> 
> Secondly, from now on the chapters will go in a pattern: Henry, Toppats, Frisk. So after this, we're back with the Toppat Clan... for a little while, anyways.
> 
> Also, I tried something new with the mid-chapter illustration. It was tough, and I wouldn't expect more in this particular style, but feel free to tell me what you think of it.

“ _..._ _Late las_ _t night, users of popular social media sites found_ _their feeds overrun with quite the unexpected surprise. Most cultures have_ _troves of_ _legends concerning monsters, mysterious beings who could steal the souls of humans and use them to_ _generate incredible power. And now, according to a bizarre collection of videos and pictures_ _that have appeared overnight on the Internet, these terrors of humanit_ _y’s_ _past have returned to wreak havoc anew.”_

Henry groaned. “Sensationalist bottom feeders,” He mumbled as he groped blindly around the bed for the remote that would mercifully release him from the flowery nonsense of modern day news reporters.

One night. One night Henry had locked himself away from the world to study this goddamn book, and this is what he missed. Jesus Christ.

Apparently what had happened was some anonymous internet hack had uploaded piecemeal bits of evidence that suggested that the monsters had not only returned from whatever hell they’d been hiding in (or trapped in? Henry hadn’t caught that part), but that the Government was keeping them hidden in some unknown secret camp. Naturally, the whole world was in an uproar, and major media outlets from all over were not making the situation better by playing up the angle of the big, scary monsters coming to steal the souls of children. It was eye-roll inducing, even more so since the ill-informed people were eating it up.

Mercifully, Henry found the remote after a minute of tired searching, and the television blinked off. The exhausted thief sighed, collapsing forward onto his stomach and burying his face in the book he had just spent all night studying. He had succeeded in not nodding off again, after nearly losing Charles to his own stupidity ~~again~~ , but was now suffering the obvious consequences. His head ached something fierce, his chest was still sore from the extraction he’d had to perform just yesterday, and every limb felt impossibly heavy. In order to keep himself awake, Henry had to constantly turn his head to stare at Charles, bright little light that he was.

“Can you believe this?” He asked Charles, floating harmlessly by the bed next to him. Charles, naturally, did not respond. “Monsters aren’t even back one full day and people are already demonizing them. God, I hate humans. Except you, obviously,” Henry smiled tiredly at the soul, “You’re different.”

A dinging sound to the side indicated that the coffee maker, free with use of the room, was done brewing. Henry sighed and leapt up to retrieve his bitter liquid relief. Once upon a time, back when Charles still had a human body, Henry had promised his new pilot friend that he’d cut back a little. Now he shamelessly broke that promise as he grabbed the entire pot, not even bothering with one of the included paper cups, and started chugging. It was a little extreme, even for Henry, but after two physical all-nighters (and countless psychological ones), he felt like he deserved a bold pick-me-up. If Charles had a problem with it he could tell Henry, and since Charles was staying quiet, Henry kept chugging.

One half-pot later, the pain in Henry’s body was pushed to the side by a sudden jolt of energy that caused him to shiver from toe to head. Okay, now that he was a little more awake, he could start focusing on what to do next.

According to ancient legend, monsters were the original wielders of magic. They used the stuff as fluidly and naturally as a human used their hands. If they could use magic so easily, they _must_ know more about the nature of souls than humans did. So, logically, the best way to help Charles was to recruit the monsters’ help, right?

Now all he had to do was find them.

This, as it turned out, would be easier said than done. Henry spend maybe an hour making call after call to his old contacts, trying to find out if any of them knew how to find the facility where the monsters were being kept. Half of them didn’t even pick up, on account of him _technically_ going straight, and a good portion of those who did were angry and annoyed. Ultimately, none of them knew where the monsters were, and the call would end with Henry slamming his cell down hard in frustration.

“Seriously?” Henry asked when his final contact just hung up laughing when Henry asked about the monsters. How did nobody know where they were?

Frustrated, Henry let himself collapse into the bed next to Charles. The soul constantly radiated KINDNESS, which was probably the only reason Henry hadn’t lost it at his stupid contacts. For just a moment Henry stayed like that, letting the naturally calming aura of KINDNESS dull his growing temper, before inhaling and sitting back up. He was fine. He could do this. Next, he would check online to see if there were any updates or official statements on the monsters. The politicians wouldn’t just leave people to panic, right?

That thought was so naive Henry almost wanted to laugh. God, Charles rubbed off on him way more than he wanted to admit.

The clue that finally lead Henry to the monsters turned out to be one of the videos of them leaked online. Henry was watching them, blinking sleepily at the poorly shot images, when a familiar voice made his brow furrow and caused him to rewind the video once. Then twice. Then finally Henry’s tired brain kicked into gear and recognized the voice he could only barely hear through the murmuring of crowds. There was no mistaking it: That was General Galeforce.

Henry pondered. He’d last seen Galeforce two nights ago, shortly after his escape pod crashed onto Earth. The man would’ve been charged with overseeing the safe clean-up of the Toppat Space Station, as well as the capture of the remaining thieves. He would not have left the Ebott area before those tasks were complete, which meant that he, and by proxy the monsters, were likely still in the Ebott area. Maybe even in the same camp Henry had reported to him in after Charles... after the Toppat Station’s destruction.

This revelation sparked HOPE in Henry’s soul. They’d be able to get to the monsters quickly, and without too much fuss. Henry wrapped Charles in a spare blanket, stuck him and the book in his bag, and left the cheap motel behind.

Hopefully forever, because seriously, that bed sucked.

Initially Henry had planned to take the motorcycle up to the campsite, but that plan fell apart when he exited the motel to find a policeman taking note of the bike and its numbers. Henry inhaled sharply, then decided that maybe the city bus would make for an easier trip. Public transportation, when required, was never fun for Henry. He always felt watched whenever there were too many people around, and the confined space of the bus made breathing difficult sometimes. Fortunately for Henry, early morning on a weekday was the perfect time to catch the bus. The only other people on board looked just as tired as Henry, and didn’t pay any mind to the strange green glow pouring out the side of his bag. Henry chose a free seat at the back of the bus and hugged his bag close. After a few stops, when it became clear nobody was going to be joining him at the rear of the bus, Henry carefully opened his bag, mindful of where the light was spilling out, and retrieved his book.

Since he wouldn’t be directing his attention towards driving, he might as well get some studying done, right?

When Henry first opened the book, the letters briefly blurred into shapes, which probably wasn’t a great sign, but Henry steeled his focus and read onward. ‘The Ultimate fate of the Soul upon fading is entirely unknown to Us, but ancient Tomes from before our conflict with the Monsters suggests that, at One point, the nature of the Soul in the stages between Life and Oblivion were not as foreign as they are Today. Indeed, included in these Texts are Stories concerning the Souls of the Deceased, which are consistent with our current Knowledge of Souls and their functionality. In these Stories, Souls of Deceased Humans fell into a ‘Sleeping State’ due to the Trauma of facing Death, and this caused the production of Determination to cease. According to the ancient Texts, these Souls were, in certain Legends, brought before powerful Boss Monsters that would use Magic to force the Souls to awaken, allowing for the Production of Determination to continue.’

Henry sat up straight in his seat, clutching his bag tightly. For fuck’s sake, how had he missed this when he read this passage last night?

(A nagging voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Charles, told Henry it had something to do with how little he was sleeping. Henry promptly told it to shut up.)

‘Such Texts include an early telling of the _Tale of Orpheus_ : In modern versions, He descends unto Hades to retrieve his Deceased true Love, only to lose Her when his Fear causes him to disobey Hades’ Instructions and look back at his Love, causing her to disappear before his eyes. In this precursor Version, however, Hades was played by an extremely prolific Boss Monster of the Time, who held Power of the Region’s Monsters similar to a King. Orpheus brought his deceased Love’s Soul to the Monster King, pleading for him to Awaken her. He complies, and Her Soul is Awakened, but before they can return to their Home, the Love’s Soul is absorbed by a Monster, who is then sentenced to Death by the Monster King. Please see _Chapter Twenty: Retold Tales_ , for Theories as to how other Ancient Myths could be misremembered Encounters between Monsters and Humanity.

‘There are also many Word of Mouth Tales, passed down through Humanity’s long History, that suggest there are other Ways to Awaken a Deceased Soul. One such Legend tells of a woman who died giving birth to her and her Husband’s twins. The Husband’s Call of Grief, when united with the Wails of her Two Infant Children, caused her to Soul to Awaken, and she created a Ghostly Form for herself so she could continue to tend to her Family. We suspect this to be the True Origin of the story more widely known as Sleeping Beauty – one which had become garbled and distorted by Time. While unverified due to the nature of its retelling, this Story suggests that strong Emotional Connections could also awaken a Sleeping Soul.’

So... souls could be awoken by strong magic, or by strong emotional bonds?

Henry looked ahead quickly, watching one of the nine-to-five workmen stumbling off the bus and into the office where he would spend the next eight hours struggling to find a reason to live. Only two other people were on the bus, and neither of them looked particularly awake, so Henry carefully undid the latch on his bag and peered inside at Charles.

The soul hummed harmlessly, floating without a care inside the comfortable nest Henry had made of the blanket. Just seeing him made Henry smile a little.

“Hey Charles,” Henry whispered softly, so that the other riders couldn’t hear him, “I, uh, I don’t know if you can hear me. I mean, I hope you can, otherwise I’m just kind of talking to myself in the back of a bus for no reason. Heh.” Oh god, this was already going badly. Henry swallowed around his nerves and pressed on.

“Um, so I read in a book, this book, right here, actually,” Henry held the book up with one hand, as if Charles could see it in his current state, “That a strong emotional connection _could_ wake you up, maybe. So, I’m gonna try it. I’m gonna make you feel something. With my words.” Henry spoke slowly as he struggled to find said words. There was a very good reason most people didn’t know what Henry Stickmin sounded like, and this was it right here. “Alright, so, feelings... feelings...”

God, Henry was bad at this.

“Um, okay, so, do you remember when we first met? It was onboard the helicopter before the airship mission. Hey, thanks for kidnapping me, by the way.” Henry chuckled a little, “God, I was really annoyed at the time. I just wanted to get through the mission without making an enemy out of the Toppats. And then you offered me that earpiece...” Henry leaned back into his seat, sighing as he let himself relax a little, “I didn’t expect to _like_ working with another person, let alone a government dog – no offense. But it was really fun. Even the parts where I died were fun.

“I... never told you about my magic, did I?” Henry sighed, leaning against the window. “Time’s a fickle bitch. You have to be stubborn to turn back time, but I’ve been able to do it since I was maybe eleven? It’s... hard to explain. But whenever I saw or heard or even smelled something that sparked my DETERMINATION, I’d feel... connected to that point in time. I called it a SAVE, because it made me think of save points from video games. And every time I FAILED, I could just... go back to my SAVE and try again. That’s how I got out of prison, and how I stole the Tunisian Diamond. But... you can screw up SAVES too. That’s how I got stuck _in_ prison in the first place. My SAVE right outside the bank walls? Yeah, accidentally overrode it when I got into the vault. But I’ve gotten a lot better since then. I can even keep two separate SAVES at once now.

“...I’ve kept meaning to tell you, really. But nobody ever notices me loading a SAVE, and I was kind of worried you’d think I’m crazy? Hell, I think I’m crazy half the time. Like, maybe I actually didn’t die a bunch of times. Maybe I’m just hallucinating. You know?”

Henry peered into the bag. The soul was still floating there. Still silent.

“I didn’t want to have to ask you for help,” Henry confessed, “But I wasn’t left with a lot of options, so I kind of had to. And then, uh, you probably don’t remember this, heh, then you rammed your whole freakin’ _helicopter_ at the side of the airship! It was the funniest way I’ve ever died! I mean, you probably wouldn’t find it funny, but I guess I’ve had to learn to find the humour in painful dismemberment. I thought you were funny, and it cleared the air, and the next thing I knew I was relying on you more, taking your advice. I was totally stuck in the cargo bay of the Airship before you pulled that force gun out of thin air. That was really cool!

“And then... you actually wanted to keep spending time with me. Like, outside the mission. Which was a little crazy to me, because I was a known criminal, and you were just... like, the nicest person. I never felt more relaxed than when you were around- are around.” Henry sighed. “I should’ve gotten a hold of you sooner. I was so scared of that complex finding out I was alive and taking me back... but I should’ve called you as soon as I was able to. Maybe we could’ve found a way to stop the Toppats before they’d even launched. Maybe... maybe you’d still have your body. I’m so sorry”

The glowing form of Charles’ soul didn’t respond at all. Save for the slight bobbing motion it performed naturally, the tiny green light was totally stagnant.

“Hey, I’m pouring my heart and soul out here, the least you could do is talk back to me!” Henry hissed a little too loudly. When he looked up from the bag, he spotted one of the other people on the bus staring at him, and looked away with an embarrassed flush. “You know what? Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

Despite himself, Henry wasn’t surprised that Charles wouldn’t speak back to him. After all, they’d only known each other for a few weeks. Even if Charles had admitted to being lonely before meeting Henry, that didn’t mean he felt the same extreme attachment Henry did. No, a KIND guy like Charles could make friends with anyone. He probably didn’t need Henry.

...Not like Henry had come to need him.

“ _Henry? Hey, Henry, wake up!”_

_Several light smacks to his cheeks forcibly awoke Henry from his once peaceful slumber. He mumbled and groaned and swatted at the hands patting his face until he chased them away, then attempted to turn over so the hands couldn’t assault him further. Sadly, his assailant had access to other body parts, and proceeded to poke Henry hard in the side._

“ _Hen-ry!” The merciless attacker whined, “Are you seriously asleep? It’s only one in the morning! Who sleeps at a sleepover at one in the morning?”_

_A garbled mess of consonances was the only response the assailant got as Henry rolled over to face him; Charles Calvin, who was currently bent over next to his sleeping bag, attempting to annoy Henry back to the world of the living. Unfortunately for Henry, it was working._

“ _I’ll get up if you get me some coffee,” Henry offered as a compromise._

“ _Uh, no. You’ve already had, like, four cups of that garbage. Tell you what, you get up and I’ll make you a cup of my hot chocolate.”_

_Just this once, for the hot chocolate, Henry quirked open one eye to look at Charles, “With whipped cream and cinnamon?”_

“ _Is there another way to make hot chocolate?” Joked the pilot, already standing up and on his way to the tiny kitchen. Henry stretched out his arms, then got up to follow him. Despite all his complaining, Henry really did prefer the dead of night. There was something peaceful about the silence, about knowing that outside his window, the rest of the world was sound asleep. Echoes of cricket songs played in the background as Henry rested his head on the counter top, watching Charles work his own brand of magic while preparing the most perfect cup of hot chocolate Henry had ever tasted. Henry had asked, once, what made Charles’ hot chocolate so good, and Charles had answered with a high-pitched and at least partially joking, “Love,” before cracking up and telling Henry about the hint of cinnamon in every cup. And while Henry didn’t doubt that the cinnamon added to the hot chocolate, he’d remembered back to what little information he could find about magic, and wondered if Charles’ first answer was maybe not so far off after all._

__

_With nothing to do but wait for the water to boil, Charles casually leaned back against the counter top and gave Henry a teasing smirk, “I can’t believe you actually fell asleep at a sleepover.” Charles gave a snorting laugh, “I mean, c’mon, nobody sleeps at a sleepover!”_

“ _Lots of people sleep at sleepovers,”_ _R_ _etorted Henry Stickmin, who had, in fact, never attended a sleepover before in his life. “_ _And it’s not like we were doing anything. You were trying to find a movie because we’d officially run out of ways to waste time. I mean, you’re always bugging me to go to_ _bed_ _on time, so-”_

“ _Ah, Henry,” Charles interrupted, kind and gentle, “You’re doing it again.”_

_Henry looked down. The ‘it’ Charles referred to was Henry’s habit of signing as he spoke. It wasn’t something he did on purpose. It just... kind of happened._

“ _Oh, sorry,” Henry folded his fingers to stop his hands from moving._

“ _No, no, I don’t mind!” The pilot immediately reassured his friend, waving his hands frantically as if to wave away the idea of his disapproval, “I actually think it’s really cool! I wish I knew a second language. So... how come you know sign language, anyways? Was someone in your family deaf?”_

“ _Er...” Henry shrugged, “No, nothing like that. I just... wanted to learn it. Besides, it’s easier to avoid talking to people when they think you can’t hear them.”_

“ _Seriously?” Charles snickered at Henry when he shrugged non-noncommittally, “You asshole.”_

“ _Yup, that’s me.” The former thief smirked coolly at Charles, ignoring the tight knot at the pit of his stomach._

_Nearby, the kettle begins to whistle. But Charles_ _didn’t_ _go to pick it up. Instead, it_ _just got_ _louder, and louder, and, funny, the screaming noise almost sounds like words, it almost_ _sounded_ _like..._

“Sir? Sir? Sir?”

Henry immediately sat up straight, pulling away from the hand that was gently shaking him.

Shoot. Had he fallen asleep again?

No, yeah, he definitely had. Henry could feel sticky saliva clinging to his chin, and his hair had been forcibly matted to the side of his face. Ugh, he felt as gross as he probably looked. An old familiar nagging echoed from the back of Henry’s head, one that told him he probably looked like some sort of druggie, with his sleep-wrinkled clothes and his bloodshot eyes. Henry took a moment to wipe the sleep from his eyes before looking up at the bus driver.

“Last stop of the line.” The driver told Henry matter-of-factly. If he thought much of anything about Henry, it didn’t show in his tone or on his face. In fact, he was quite professional and polite, “This bus is going to be refueled and cleaned, so you’ll probably want to catch a different one to get back into the city. Sorry, bub.”

“It’s fine.” Henry assured the man, taking note of the surroundings. The bus station was on the very fringes of town, so he would have to walk the rest of the way to camp, “Thanks for waking me up.”

Once off the bus, Henry headed in the direction of the camp, using Mount Ebott as a guiding point. The area was green and luscious – Henry used to think it was because Mount Ebott had once been volcanic. Now he wondered if the magical monsters, potentially sealed away somewhere in the area, had some sort of effect on the local vegetation.

As he hiked away from the bus and towards the campsite, Henry pulled his bag over his shoulder and checked on Charles. No major changes, fortunately – he was just as bright and lustrous as he had been when Henry had last checked on him. A little bit of DETERMINATION certainly did go a long way, didn’t it?

_Not_ _long_ _enough. He’s still asleep._

“I... forgot that’s what I told you about my sign language.” Henry confessed to the sleeping soul as they moved along. “I didn’t mean to lie. I just... it’s hard to talk about, you know? The truth is, I...” Henry sighed. The coffee from this morning had entirely worn off, leaving behind a lingering pain in both his eyes and his chest, “I was selectively mute as a kid. I _could_ talk, my vocal cords worked just fine, but when I tried to speak to someone else I just... couldn’t. I learned how to sign from a teacher in elementary school, so I had some way of communicating. I’ve... obviously grown out of it, but sometimes I still... have trouble talking. I don’t know why I lied to you about it.” Henry checked to see if there were any changes. Negative.

“Maybe... maybe I was worried you’d think I was less capable, or maybe that you’d think I was dumb. I don’t know. I just felt like... like I couldn’t tell anyone. Like I couldn’t _trust_ anyone.” Henry paused, looking directly at Charles. His eyes suddenly stung. “Maybe that’s why you aren’t waking up for me. Maybe it’s my fault.”

The normally soothing radiation of KINDNESS Charles naturally put out was suddenly too much. Henry found himself fighting off tears once again, and he wrapped the blanket a little more securely around Charles before swinging the bag back onto his back.

There was no maybe about it: This was definitely Henry’s fault. And he was going to fix it. That was the least he owed Charles.

He was filled with DETERMINATION.

By the time Henry had found his way back to the Government camp, the sun was solidly in the western side of the sky. When he’d last left the camp, everyone was very casual and relaxed, celebrating in their (Charles’) victory against the Toppat Clan. Now everyone was on high alert: two guards to a post, everyone scrambling around, soldiers tense and uptight. Henry couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the Government quite this scrambled. This cemented the decision in his mind. The monsters, the only beings in the world that could help Charles, were here.

Henry paused, took a deep breath, and focused on Charles in his backpack. Charles, who sacrificed himself for Henry, who had been his first and only friend, who had actually looked _happy_ to see Henry back from the dead...

_File Saved_.

And pressed forward.

“Henry!” One of the soldiers guarding the front gate – Bob, maybe? - instantly recognized him, reaching to forcibly lower his partner’s raised weapon.

“I need to see Galeforce,” Henry told them, blunt as a bat. Normally he preferred to go the subtle way – it tended to go better than trying to blow things up – but he could not risk wasting time when Charles was running on fumes.

“Yeah, we’ll take you to him. He’s been looking for you, too.” The guard punched a code into the keypad by the gate, allowing it to open. “He’s, uh, been pretty worried about you.”

Henry winced. Yeah, they hadn’t parted on... the greatest terms. Hopefully the shock of seeing Charles again would save Henry from a lecture.

“The General’s probably still in the strategy tent. It’s on the far edge of the camp. Just... be careful. That side of the camp isn’t exactly... safe right now.”

“Because of the monsters?” Henry guessed flatly, entirely unimpressed by the soldier’s warnings.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Noted.” Without wasting another breath on these grunts, Henry pushed past them and into the campgrounds proper. He passed plenty of humans, some he recognized, most he didn’t, but wasn’t properly fussed until he reached the far end of the camp and saw the monsters for himself.

And good lord, they were _incredible_.

These mythical beings came in all shapes and sizes, from tiny little slimes oozing across the grass to a gigantic octopus settled into a makeshift pond on the far end of the area. They went about their business in the same way humans did, for the most part. Children ran around playing games of pretend, and a woman with spider features was baking what appeared to be a batch of muffins. A rabbit like man was offering ice cream to anyone who passed, free of charge, as a ‘gift for our first day on the surface!’, and a giant mushroom that Henry knew hadn’t been there when he’d left was dancing for some strange looking cat... dog... things. Further in the back, a tall goat man in an apron was helping pass out soup to everybody with a kindly smile that seemed surprisingly at home on his otherwise intimidating features. The Monsters came in all shapes and sizes, and Henry found them all absolutely stunning.

“Wish you could see this, Charles.” Henry mumbled, hardly able to keep the smile off his face. This was definitely something his good pal would enjoy, once he woke up.

Henry heard the General’s booming voice before he saw the older man. When Henry entered the very same tent where he had first come to debrief with the General, he saw a line of soldiers that were all familiar. Rupert Price, Konrad and Calvin Bukowski, and some other soldiers who had worked with Charles before his death. Each one stood rigid and stoic against the brutal voice of the general, and it didn’t take a genius to realize what had the normally composed man alight with fury.

“...your tents have _all_ been searched, and fortunately for you all, we haven’t found anything incriminating yet. But the SECOND I figure out which of you leaked that information to the internet, you will be tried with TREASON, among other, lesser charges. Not only have you endangered the monsters, innocent creatures who haven’t yet done _anything_ to deserve being treated like criminals, you have endangered your fellow soldiers! Even now, our higher ups are struggling to form a coherent response to the intel leak that will satisfy both the common people _and_ the foreign powers that have been putting pressure on us to reveal the monsters’ location! For now, you are all free to go, but you are confined to the campsite. And if ANY of you cause ANY sort of problems before the situation is resolved, you will be tried as a co-conspirators. Understood?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“DISMISSED!”

The line of soldiers filed out all neat and orderly. They passed by Henry without much more than a side glance; even Rupert Price, who usually glared at Henry every time they crossed paths, didn’t so much as twitch a brow when he noticed the former convict.

Henry watched them pass before turning as the General called his name, much softer and much gentler than his voice had been only seconds prior.

“Hi,” Henry waved awkwardly, then after a moment of silence added, “I’m back.”

“Where the hell did you go, son?” The General asked. The use of that name – Charles’ name – caused Henry’s fingers to twitch. He clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from doing anything stupid. “We went looking everywhere for you. We even searched Mount Ebott. I thought- I thought that you-”

The words were very obviously difficult for the old man’s heart; with every one, it seemed like another wrinkle was added to his old, tired face. After a moment’s hesitation, Henry decided to SPARE the old man and interrupted him.

“Sorry for causing you trouble.” Henry mumbled out. The unfamiliar flavour of an apology was like lead on his tongue. “I wouldn’t have... Charles gave everything for me. I wouldn’t waste his gift like that, y’know?”

Galeforce took a long, calming breath, letting Henry’s reassurances roll over him, then surprised Stickmin with a smile. “That’s good to hear, Henry. If you need anything, anything at all-”

“That’s why I’m here, actually. I’ve got something to show you.” Henry quickly pulled his bag from his back, putting it on the table where maps and plans were scattered and opened it, allowing the KINDNESS that Charles naturally radiated to pour out into the tent. A green light shone over everything, and the General’s surprised expression turned melancholy, as he was no doubt swathed in his once happiest memories, turned bittersweet by Charles’ untimely demise.

Galeforce swallowed thickly, trying and failing to contain the raw emotion that Charles was unintentionally invoking. He asked, “What... is this...?”

“It’s a soul, sir. A human soul.” Henry reached into his bag and gently cupped his hands underneath Charles. The soul, as always, hovered passively as Henry gently lifted him out of hiding and into the open. Now that he had calmed down some, the positive energy forced a smile on Henry’s face, the exact same way Charles had always done. “You recognize him, don’t you? It’s-”

“Charlie...” The general breathed out, words barely more audible than the wisps of the wind. He reached out his palms, put on autopilot by the incredible emotions he must have been going through, and Henry, after a moment’s hesitation, let his friend rest in the General’s open palms. Calm silence swept over the room, and Galeforce began to cry, silent little sobs of grief and relief and HOPE that Henry himself was more than familiar with at this point.

After the moment had passed, Galeforce composed himself somewhat and asked, “Can he hear us?”

“In theory, yes. He should be able to hear us just fine.” Henry answered, reverting to the calmer business persona he used when dealing with the types of people that made living as a thief possible, “In practice, it’s a bit more complicated.”

“It always is,” The General murmured under his breath.

“After you die, your soul enters what my sources,” Sources being a grand total of one book, hastily scribbled by a singular madman, and stuck in the fantasy section of a bookstore on the verge of bankruptcy, “call a ‘sleeping state’. In this state, Charles’ soul isn’t creating DETERMINATION, and that’ll eventually cause his soul to deteriorate and fade.” Henry’s hands shook as he signed along with his spoken words, remembering when Charles’ had almost faded back at the motel. “If we can wake him up, we can stop that, but waking a sleeping soul isn’t easy.”

“What do you need?” General Galeforce asked, immediately standing straight. As if knocked back from his senses, Galeforce’s eyes were blazing with fierce DETERMINATION – not quite at Henry’s ridiculously high levels, but high enough that Henry could _feel_ it. That was the thing about love, he supposed – it inspired people’s very souls, causing them to strengthen in ways they might not have thought possible.

“The monsters.” Henry answered, “Their knowledge of souls and magic vastly outweighs any source left here on the surface. If anyone in the world can help Charles, its them.”

“Mister Price!” Galeforce called out loudly, calling in the once police guard who was now passing by the tent. Immediately the guard fell into line, saluting resolutely at them. Maybe it was because Henry was so exhausted, or maybe what he had heard before coming in was affecting his sense of perception, but if felt to Henry like Rupert was a little too stiff, a little too quick to jump to attention. Or maybe that was just him. Who knows?

As Henry pondered, Galeforce laid out instructions for his subordinate, “I want you to locate the Monster King and their Ambassador and set up a meeting as soon as possible. And don’t give me any lip about it. The situation is urgent. Go!”

Rupert jumped, then scrambled off into the fray.

Galeforce sighed deeply, letting all the stress and anguish he had felt throughout the week pour into one single breath, then all but collapsed into his seat. He sat with his elbows on his desk, his hands still cradling Charles delicately. For a long while, nobody spoke.

Then Henry had an idea.

“Hey, I know this may be a bit...” Henry struggled to find a word that fit, then decided to go with, “uncomfortable,” Galeforce was eyeing him from his seat, looking at Henry with suspicion, “but could you maybe try talking to Charles? Just to see if he’ll respond to you? He didn’t for me, but I... haven’t known him that long. Maybe you’d have better luck.”

_Maybe he cares about you enough to wake up._

“If he didn’t respond for you, I don’t think he will for me,” Galeforce claimed, even though they didn’t have time for jokes, “but I’ll give it a shot. Ahem,” Charles was set gently onto the wooden desk in between them. Hubert bent down so that he was at eye level with the glowing soul. Henry was honestly a little impressed; looking directly at Charles was a little rough until your eyes adjusted, but Galeforce held and stared at Charles with uncovered eyes and seemed completely unaffected.

“Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me?”

Silence.

“I’m... so sorry, son.” Galeforce’s voice was husky as he spoke, heavy with sadness, “You deserved so much better than this.”

Another _I’m sorry_ balanced at the tip of Henry’s tongue, but he forcibly swallowed it.

“You’re not feeling up to talking, are you, son? That’s okay. You’ve done so much already.” Hesitant fingers reached out and stroked along the outside of the soul, something Henry hadn’t had the courage to try. It was impossible to tell what the old man could be feeling at that moment, but it caused another tear to fall from his tired face. “I love you, son. You just rest up. We’ll take care of you until you’re feeling better, okay?”

Charles did not respond.

“I’ll... see you soon, my boy. I promise.”

Henry exhaled shakily, letting all the aches of his head and chest roll over him. “I’m sorry. I thought that might work.”

But it didn’t. That meant the monsters were their only lead in saving Charles.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, son,” The General was up on his feet and by Henry’s side surprisingly quickly, standing nearby but thankfully not reaching out to touch him. “It was worth the attempt.”

The time passed slowly as the two humans waited for the monster’s response. As they waited, Henry laid belly up on the General’s desk, right next to Charles, while he and the General conversed in a surprisingly casual fashion.

“So... the monsters have a monarchy?” Asked Henry.

“Yes, though Asgore is hardly the kingly type.” Galeforce kept his gaze outside the tent, where the monsters were hustling and bustling about, trying to develop some semblance of normalcy in this crazy life they’d been thrust into. “I’ve seen him around camp a few times since our first meeting. He’s less like what you would expect the king of monsters to be and more like... that old man from up the street who’s become everyone’s unofficial grandpa.”

“Ah,” Henry said, having never been on good terms with his neighbors before. “And the ambassador?”

“Frisk is... also not what you would expect of a monster ambassador. Just keep in mind that you need to treat them with the same respect that you do the king, even if they’re a bit of an... unconventional choice.”

Huh. What kind of monster would this ‘Frisk’ be, then?

Henry was pretty sure he knew which monster Asgore was. When he’d passed the monsters’ side of the camp he’d seen a monster that had towered above the best. He hadn’t _looked_ like a king, garbed in a tacky pink Hawaiian shirt and cheap cargo pants, but that fit the description Galeforce had given him better than some regal looking old man parked on a throne and decorated with gold and jewels. He’d seemed genuinely happy, pouring soup into bowls and passing them out to his fellow monsters. Asgore looked... nice. Nicer than the human politicians Henry had the displeasure of knowing about, at any rate.

It would be easy to assume that the ambassador was the same type of monster Asgore was, but Galeforce’s strange wording when describing them made Henry think. What would be an unconventional choice for the ambassador between monsters and humans? Were they something humans might find repulsive, like the spider lady he’d seen? Or maybe they were somebody Henry wouldn’t expect to be an ambassador, like one of the small rabbit people Henry had seen hopping around?

Or maybe...

Before Henry could take his musings forward, the entrance flap of Galeforce’s tent flew open, and a hulking mass of fur bent forward awkwardly to enter. It was King Asgore, and Henry had guessed right; he was indeed the gigantic goat man Henry had seen earlier, except Henry had very much underestimated just how tall he was. Henry stood at a firm six foot zero inches, taller than most of the people in the camp, but Asgore towered over even him. He had to hunch his shoulders awkwardly to even walk around in the tent. The King was still wearing his casual clothing, but had grabbed a crown and a regal purple cloak on the way over, which made for an... awkward and interesting combination of garments.

Trailing behind him was a small child. They looked human.

“Ah, King Asgore,” General Galeforce greeted the duo with a bow. “Ambassador Frisk. Thank you for heeding my summons so quickly.”

...wait, _this_ was the ambassador? The small child?

“The pleasure is ours, General,” Asgore responded. His voice was deep and booming, but also polite and regal. For all his failure to look the part, Asgore certainly sounded like a king.

Frisk, the little ambassador, didn’t respond. They moved to stand next to Asgore and stared first at the General, and then at Henry. He felt his breath catch in throat as their ruby eyes bore into him; for a normal human, this child might not have seemed like anything special, but Henry had learned how to pick up a few things while he learned about his magic. And Frisk... Frisk had incredible DETERMINATION. Much greater than his own. He could feel flecks of it even from the distance he was at, and it made the hairs on his arm stand on end. Frisk was, at the very least, a magic user. There was no way they weren’t.

But there was still something more to this child. Something that Henry couldn’t comprehend. The ache in his chest grew, and he clenched at his heart as if to shield it.

There was no doubt in Henry’s mind that Frisk was human. But there was something off about them... something that unsettled him more than any monster he had seen so far.

He just couldn’t place what it was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to myself for inspiring the idea that Henry missed plot critical details from his book because he was too tired to take it in properly.


	5. The Lost Children of Mount Ebott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Toppats argue, Burt gives exposition, and Sven's just trying to be helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a) I did not expect this chapter to be ready this soon, because b) I did not expect this chapter to be this short. Oh well, it is what it is.

What was now the meeting room may have been a storage hold at some point, or perhaps a vault of some sort. The door was heavy, and one of the few in the compound that possessed a lock. The inside was large, which had been their primary reason for converting it into their boardroom, and just as sturdy and plain as the rest of the concrete bunker they’d been squatting in. A large wooden table, much cheaper than what many of the Toppat elites were used to, had been moved inside, and decorated with a single cloth covering. Instead of the cushioned office chairs they’d each grown accustomed to, the board members sat on cheap metal folding chairs picked up by an incognito member during a trip to town. There was a steady murmur of conversation as the heads of the Toppat clan whispered among themselves, everything from polite conversation to haggard complaints. All that noise, however, was interrupted by the chime of a bell, prompting everyone to fall to silence.

The meeting had officially begun.

For a short while, nobody spoke. The silence was thick and awkward. Carol Cross, sitting to the left of the head of the table, turned to address the man in the leader’s chair, “Sir, as the Chief, you’re the one who-”

“I ain’t the Chief.” Was the curt reply of the Right Hand Man, leaned back with his arms crossed. He looked annoyed to even be there, which was fair, considering his ill husband was confined to a bed on the other end of the compound. Everyone in the room exchanged awkward looks at the comment; Sven, sitting near the door on the opposite end, twiddled his thumbs and kept his gaze down, guilt tempered only by the comforting hand of Burt on his shoulder.

“Err, right,” Miss Cross replied evenly, keeping her tone calculatingly neutral, “But seeing as the current Chief is... indisposed, the board has elected to make you the acting Chief. So you’re the one who has to call the meeting to order.”

“Fine.” The Right Hand leaned forward, grabbing the gavel his husband must have used hundreds of times during these meetings, and, with a bored expression that could rival even Burt Curtis’, let his hand fall so that the gavel hit the table with the weakest smack any of them had ever heard. He then set the gavel down again and resumed his relaxed posture. “There. You’re called to order.”

Carol Cross looked frustrated, but went along with it. “Fine. I’ll begin with a summary of our current situation: Our finances are in utter disarray. All of our assets were on that orbital station, and what little we were able to secure before its destruction amounts to a pittance. A large portion of our numbers are either dead or scattered; we’ve deduced that if they haven’t shown up here by now, they’re not going to. Morale is incredibly low, and with the Chief’s current state, I don’t see it raising anytime soon. We don’t know how long we can stay here before the government finds us out. Our situation is dire, perhaps the most dire it has ever been.”

“I’ve... dug around into some of the old paperwork left lying around here,” Sven volunteered, shrinking in on himself as his words attracted the stares of his superiors, “We aren’t as trapped as we initially suspected – Terrance Suave had used his portion of the Toppat’s wealth to purchase numerous safehouses. I have the official deeds here.” Sven laid the papers out for everyone to peruse, “They’re fairly scattered, so direct communication would be a challenge, but from what I can tell they are all low-key, so-”

“Ridiculous!” Poshley objected, slamming his ornate cane down on the concrete floor, “We’re already in an incredibly weakened position – no thanks to _you_ – and you’d have us all scatter?!”

“You’re right.” Burt remarked, drumming on the table rhythmically with his fingers. “Let’s go with your plan instead- oh, wait, you don’t have one, do you?”

“Why are you even here?!” The white-hatted elite pushed himself out of his chair, into a standing position, “Now that you aren’t the right hand, you have no business being present while we discuss such sensitive matters.”

“The boy was an integral part of our organization during the Chief’s absence.” Objected Macbeth, scowling sourly at his fellow elite. “You may not like him, but he deserves your respect!”

“Deserves respect after the mess that was Sven’s reign? Hardly.”

“That was on me.” In his current state, not much could’ve gotten Sven to speak up – but blaming Burt for his mistakes was going too far. “Burt’s done nothing wrong.”

The six elites plus Burt squabbled and bickered, many standing from their chairs to more effectively shout at each other. Blame was tossed around like a ball, and it kept hitting Sven repeatedly in the face. Nobody could agree on anything, and the chaos bled out into the hallways, where passing Toppats tiptoed around their arguing superiors with silent, cat-like steps.

Eventually, the fighting was broken into silence by the loud thud of a fist crashing hard into the table. The Right Hand Man was now also standing, and his annoyed boredom had transformed into cold fury.

“ _Enough._ ” He said, his quiet voice holding extreme weight. Instantly everyone was sat back down, staring at him with wide doe eyes. He huffed, and the fury evaporated, leaving only the exhaustion plain on his face. “Way I see it, we’ve got two priorities: Savin’ Reg, and gettin’ all the Toppats to safe shelter. Sven’s idea is a good one. Gene, I want you to work out the logistics. Figure out ‘ow to split everyone up and keep in communication.”

“Er, yes sir.” Having only recently become a more active member of the clan, Fredrickson seemed quite nervous, but his years of experience as the mayor of a fairly large city gave him all the experience he needed to handle the job.

The Right Hand nodded in acknowledgment. “Good. That just leaves Reginald.”

“We...” She seemed reluctant, but Carol Cross had always been the realist of the Toppats, so she pressed onward, “We may have to consider what will happen if the Chief’s state turns out to be permanent-”

“You don’t know Reginald like I do.” Her attempts at reason were met with one of the dirtiest looks any of them had ever seen the Right Hand give. “’E’ll bounce back. ‘E always does. So does anyone have any GOOD ideas?”

A moment of hush fell over the elites.

Burt raised his hand from his position behind Sven. “Well, we may have something, sir.” When he got the leader’s approval, Burt took out his cell phone and pulled up his favourite social media account. “Last night, these videos and pictures were uploaded to some rando account while we were out jail-breaking. They seem to suggest that the ancient monsters of myth have not only returned from whatever exile we put them through, but that the Government is actively hiding them from us.”

“And that helps us... how?” Mister Schwarz asked with crossed arms.

“According to ancient legend,” Sven hopped in, his nights struggling to grasp the Witch’s excited explanations coming back to him, “All magic was taught to humans by monsters. They’re the originators, and the experts.” A light of understanding came to the Right Hand’s eyes, and for the first time he looked engaged in the conversation. “If there’s anyone who knows how to help the Chief, it’s them.”

“I already see several major problems with this plan.” Miss Cross leaned forward, using her fingers to count the problems as she listed them. “One: we have no clue where they are. Two: Even if we did know, we don’t have the numbers or any weapons to go up against the military. Three: What if the monsters wouldn’t help us? Do YOU know how to fight magical monsters? Because I sure as hell don’t-”

“Easy, easy.” Burt murmured. He pulled back his phone and scrolled a little, searching for something. When he found it, he turned the phone around so that everyone could see it. “We DO know where the monsters are. They’re on Mount Ebott.” When his answer was echoed back with vague murmurs of confusion, Burt swallowed his annoyance and elaborated, “You know, that haunted mountain? The one nobody ever comes back from alive? Yeah, that’s the place.”

“And you know this how?” Asked Poshley with a skeptical quirk of his brow.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know, seeing as you apparently know everything about me.” Burt quipped with a roll of his eyes, and Sven sunk into his chair a little as the other elites stared at Burt and, by proxy, Sven himself. “Ebott City is my hometown. I grew up staring at that mountain every day from my bedroom window. If the backgrounds from those videos _aren’t_ Mount Ebott, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Even supposing you’re right,” Gene Fredrickson said, wearing his worry clearly on his face. There was a reason he wasn’t involved in most of the more dangerous stuff, “What about the Government? There’s no way they’ll let you anywhere near the monsters.”

Burt raised a finger and took in a breath to answer.

And held it.

And held it longer.

And then... “Uh, I guess we’d sneak in?”

This plan was greeted by a chorus of groans; Miss Cross facepalmed, Fredrickson sighed deeply, Poshley scoffed and scowled, Macbeth rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, and Schwarz huffed and crossed his arms. Even the Right Hand Man, who at first glance didn’t seem to move a muscle, was staring dead-eyed at Burt, very much projecting his desire to be elsewhere to the stoic man.

Sven, the only one not to join in on the groaning, sat back in seat and stroked his chin, staring intently at the edge of the table.

“Hey, it could work.” Burt objected. “We just sneak in, grab a useful looking monster, and sneak back out. What could go wrong?”

“Aside from everything?” Macbeth asked flatly.

“You four barely got out of that prison alive.” Pointed out Fredrickson, shifting a little in his seat. “Arguably, one of you didn’t.” That earned him a dirty look from the Right Hand Man, though Fredrickson thankfully didn’t take notice. “And this camp is going to be even more secure. There’s no way you can get in there and steal a whole monster without getting caught.”

“Well,” Burt sat back down, wind taken out of his sails, “I don’t hear any better ideas-”

“The caves.”

Every single person in the room turned to look at Sven. His eyes saw none of them, focused squarely on the edge of the table, and his hands were clasped together so tightly they were starting to turn red.

“Burt told me about Ebott while we were waiting for the meeting to start.” He explained, not looking up at the group even once. “The legends say that nobody who climbed the mountain ever returned. I think we’ve all been assuming that’s just where they’re keeping the monsters – because nobody goes there anyways, because of the legends – but what if the monsters and the legend were connected? What if the monsters were _in_ the mountain?” Finally Sven looked up, “Burt, you said that the mountain was hollow, right?”

“I said it was _probably_ hollow, on account of it being a volcano in the past,” Answered his previous Right Hand.

“Them being inside the mountain makes so much sense, when you put all the pieces together.” Every other elite was looking at Sven with various levels of confusion, but the Right Hand Man slowly sat up straight, listening more intently than he had so far. Seeing that raised Sven’s confidence. “We may not be able to approach the monsters directly, but its more than likely that they left quite a bit behind when they fled Mount Ebott. I believe searching for clues there is our best bet.”

“That sounds like a lot of guesswork, Sven-” Poshley began, but was instantly shut down by the Right Hand Man.

“But it’s _good_ guesswork.” The acting Chief paused for a moment to think, then nodded. “Al’ight, so it’s settled, then. Gene, Carol, you two prepare everyone to ‘ead out. We’re on borrowed time, and the longer we stay in this bunker, the easier it’ll be for the government to find us. In the meanwhile, I’ll take Reg and check out the caves underneath Mount Ebott. We’ll leave immediately.”

Sven instantly leapt out of his seat. “I’ll come with you!” He blurted out. After a moment he realized his outburst had attracted everyone’s attention to him, and sheepishly pulled himself into a more composed posture. “I mean, we can’t have anything happening to you or the Chief, yeah? I’ll come along as a bodyguard.”

The Right Hand Man made a sour expression, but acquiesced. “Al’ight. I suppose you can come.”

“Then I guess I’ll come along, too.” Burt volunteered, sounding just as relaxed as ever.

“Oi! This ain’t a field trip!”

“We need you here, Curtis.” Cross countered sharply. “You’re our foremost expert in communications. You need to help us coordinate the split.”

“Yes, go back to doing something you’re _actually_ good at.” Scoffed Poshley, looking way too pleased at this turn of events. His chipper expression was only tarnished by Macbeth pointedly jabbing him in the side with an elbow.

Sven placed a hand on Burt’s shoulder, like Burt had done for him at the beginning of the meeting, and this seemed to prevent him from doing anything rash. Burt took a deep breath and said, “I’ve trained my unit well. Jackson can do my job just fine, has been since I became the Right Hand Man.” Burt’s eyes, steady and unyielding, stared straight into Carol Cross’.

“Even so-”

“Be straight with me, ma’am: Are you saying I’m not allowed to go?”

For a moment Miss Cross bristled, not used to be questioned like that by her subordinates, but inhaled before responding, “It’s in the better interest of the clan that you-”

“Okay.” Burt took off his hat, headphones and all. “I quit.”

“Burt!” Sven gaped at the other man, aghast. Every other elite, even Poshley, looked shock by the nonchalant announcement. “You- you can’t be serious.”

Burt shrugged, looking quite calm for a man who just casually quite a well-known criminal organization. “Sure I am. If they change their minds, then I rejoin and get to come with you. If they don’t, then I’m no longer under their control and still get to come with you. Either way, I get what I want.”

“You’ll get yourself killed!” Scwartz scolded with a scowl. “Do you really think the Government’s gonna overlook you just ‘cause you ‘quit’?”

“You overestimate my capacity for forethought, sir.” Burt smiled sweetly at all his bosses. “Now, how would you like to proceed?”

Miss Cross looked very much like she just sucked an extremely sour lemon, but managed to get out through her gritted teeth, “ _Fine_. Go. We’re all splitting up anyways. But the next time we have a meeting, Mister Curtis, we _will_ discuss the consequences of your actions.” She turned her stare to the Right Hand Man. “I think we’re done here today-”

That was all he needed to bang the gavel down, officially adjourning the meeting, before zipping out of the room so quickly Sven only saw a blur of red. The rest of the elites filed after, grumbling among themselves as they left. Macbeth patted Sven’s shoulder as he left, which Sven supposed was a show of support, but other than that none of the elites acknowledged him. This left Sven alone in the boardroom with Burt, who leaned back in his chair with the type of smug arrogance Sven normally associated with the Chief.

“Hey,” Burt greeted way too casually for what just happened.

“What the actual fuck, Burt?” Sven responded, all but collapsing into the seat next to his.

“Hmm?”

“You- you could’ve gotten in serious trouble for that bluff!” As he spoke, Sven gestured wildly with his hands, not sure how else to get his vast frustrations across to his friend, “What if they’d actually fired you?”

In response, Burt winked, still keeping up that dumb smirk. “Bold of you to assume I was bluffing.”

“I- You- But- GAH!” There were no words to describe how utterly idiotic Sven’s best friend was.

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you idiots go alone.” Burt looked away. “The Right Hand Man would die for the Chief, we know that. And the Chief isn’t exactly in any condition to look out for himself. That leaves you, and with your guilt complex? No doubt, you’d get yourself killed protecting them. _Somebody_ has to be the responsible adult here.”

“And that’s supposed to be you?!”

“Yup.” Burt bounced out of his seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “C’mon, let’s go pack up. If we’re not ready to go before the Right Hand, you know he’ll leave us behind."

Indeed, after both men quickly packed their bags with the bare essentials (clothing, weapons, hiking gear Burt insisted on ‘just in case’, etc.) and managed to get out to the front of the bunker to see the Right Hand Man tossing some bags into the back end of a vehicle. White and small – not exactly the luxury they were used to, but it was better to be subtle in these trying times.

The Right Hand caught sight of them as they approached, and grumbled out, “Oh, it’s you lot. Well, go on and put yer bags in the trunk.”

The duo complied, and Sven walked up to grab one of the bags piled off to the side.

“Oi!”

Sven turned to see the Right Hand Man staring daggers at them both, shrill and cold as always.

“It’s disrespectful not ta greet the Chief.”

At first Sven didn’t understand quite what the Right Hand was saying, but then spotted him, out of the corner of his eye. The Chief was there, sitting in the passenger's seat of the car. He was dressed in clean clothes and sitting upright, which Sven supposed was an improvement from when he’d last seen the fallen man. For once, luck was on Sven’s side; the Chief’s gaze was directed out at the empty space that surrounded the bunker, so Sven wasn’t forced to stare into the dull, empty orbs which had once been lively and passionate.

Burt, too, found the Chief, and muttered under his breath, “Can he even hear us like this?”

Ignoring his friend for the moment, Sven approached and bowed his head awkwardly. “Ah, good afternoon, sir. I’m, uh, sorry I didn’t see you before.”

“Hey Chief.” Burt mumbled awkwardly, kicking at the ground and purposefully not looking at Reginald.

Their separate greetings were scrutinized for a moment by the Right Hand Man. After a moment of hesitation, he must have decided that was good enough. “Al’ight, Sven, ‘elp me get these into the trunk. Burt, replace the license plates with these fakes. One of our young’uns stole this yesterday, so we need to make sure it can’t be tracked.”

They set to work, with Sven grimacing as he picked up one of the bags. “What’s in these, anyways?”

“Necessities.” The Right Hand grumbled as he picked one up. “’at one ‘as toiltries in it. Shampoo, conditioners, soaps.”

Ah. To be honest, Sven hadn’t thought about those.

The trunk was loaded, the license plates were changed, and they were off. Sven and Burt huddled into the backseat of the car, with Burt watching the scenery fly by outside their window and Sven sitting upright, twiddling his thumbs and trying desperately not to stare at Reginald sitting directly in front of him. What didn’t help matters was that the Right Hand was _constantly_ talking to Reginald, pointing out things they passed on the road or reminiscing about the most random of things. In the depths of his heart, Sven knew this was just the Right Hand’s way of coping with what was happening, but knowing that didn’t make Sven’s rolling stomach any stiller.

God, this was awful.

“So, um, sir?” Sven cautiously questioned, and the Right Hand looked at him through the rear-view mirror, his eyes darkening as they met Sven’s through the reflection. It made Sven shiver. “Have there been _any_ changes in Chief Reginald?”

“No.” That was all Sven got. One single, curt word, spat out with an obviously forced neutrality.

“Did the doctor find anything?” He tried again.

“No.”

This wasn’t going well. “Uh, do you think he’s aware of what’s going on?”

One could see the snarl that formed on the Right Hand’s face growing larger and larger. “He’s hurt, not brain dead. Of course ‘e knows what’s bloody goin’ on.”

Sensing that he’d successfully worn down the Right Hand’s last nerve, Sven instead turned to Burt to relieve his growing anxiety. “Ah, Burt, you said you grew up in Ebott, yeah? Do you know anything about the monsters?”

“Monsters, no.” Burt dragged his attention from the scrolling landscape over to Sven. “Mount Ebott, on the other hand...”

Burt tossed Sven a coy smirk. The former Chief had to roll his eyes and wave for him to keep going before Burt continued.

“Everyone knows to never go up to the mountain. We’re told the legends when we’re still too young to really understand them: ‘No one who goes to climb the mountain has ever returned’. My Granddad told me it was because the mountain was haunted by the ghosts of soliders who had died from some war a long, long time ago, and that they mistook people who climbed up the mountain for enemy soldiers. My dad told me it was just populated with mountain lions, but I don’t think either of them really knew anything. Every family had their own horror story about someone they knew trying to climb the mountain, or a dog dying in the middle of the night and being buried close to the mountain, only to return just fine and dandy a few weeks later, with body parts missing or decayed. I think most of those were exaggerated, but I do have one personal story about it.

“Back in elementary school, there was this kid in my class a long, long time ago. Their name was really long and really feminine, but they preferred we all called them Max. They weren’t what you'd call popular, exactly. Didn’t hang out with a bunch of people, but everyone liked them. Not a single soul in the school thought one bad thing about them. Their cousin, sure, he was a little brat, but not them. They were a studious, reliable kid. Had big glasses and was always writing in this ratty old notebook they carried around. I think they had some family problems or something, ‘cause everyone in the school knew that if you asked and gave them your lunch money, Max would do your homework for you. We weren’t close or anything, but I talked to them a few times. They were a nice kid.

“Then, one day, their cousin came to school really upset. Told everyone that Max had gotten in an argument with their parents and ran away. He’d tried to follow them, he said, but Max stopped him and made him go home. He... said they headed towards Mount Ebott.

“We never saw Max again.

“It was all anyone talked about for the rest of the year. Everyone was talking about how they were eaten by wolves or carried off by the wind spirits or had fallen into a pit and turned into a cyborg. A whole lotta rumour, damned few facts. Only one who wasn’t running their mouth off was their cousin. Met the kid only once or twice, but they were pretty quiet for the rest of the year, and I didn’t see them at all after that. Heh, one thing I did hear was that one of our asshole classmates told the kid Max ran off because he was such a horrible little twerp. Kid punched him so hard, he actually lost two of his teeth! Ha!”

Burt chuckled for a short moment, and then sighed, suddenly turning melancholy. “Guess we know what happened now.”

“You think the monsters killed them?” Sven asked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Right Hand Man’s gaze on them in the rear view mirror.

“Honestly? We only saw one human kid in the video from the monster camp. Unless they were out of sight somewhere, I think the monsters _must_ have killed them.”

The ride continued in melancholic silence.

Sven fell asleep, at some point, but woke up when he felt the car gently slow to a stop. Burt had just opened his door, and the Right Hand Man was making his way around the car to help Reginald out of his seat.

“There it is.” Murmured Burt, leaning on the hood of the vehicle as he gazed into the horizon. “Mount Ebott.”

It stood tall and proud above them. While listening to Burt’s descriptions, Sven had expected a gray tower of sharp, jagged spirals, complete with swirling dark clouds and the crackle of thunder. The actual of Mount Ebott was peaceful and inviting, with rolling green slopes, cushioned on all sides by a pleasant forest and sound-tracked with chirping birds and chattering chipmunks. It was lovely. Peaceful.

Nothing else would have made Sven more suspicious.

The car door opening to his side jarred Sven out of his thoughts, and he jumped up to offer his aid. “Here, sir, let me-”

“I’ve got it.” The Right Hand scoffed, sending Sven a glare that stopped him in his tracks. He first reached across to unbuckle his husband, then slowly, cautiously, pulled Reginald to his feet. Almost immediately Reginald’s legs failed him, and he would have fallen down onto the dirt, were it not for the Right Hand and Sven’s interference. His body was heavy and limp, and Sven tried not to think of it as dead weight. Once Reginald was up, the Right Hand pushed Sven off, perhaps a touch harder than necessary. “I _said_ , I’ve got this. Ya wanna be useful so bad, go grab our bags.” His attention turned completely to Reginald as he muttered under his breath, “Can’t screw that up.”

The cold words made Sven reel back, and the cold glare that accompanied them made his throat run dry. He stood helplessly to the side as the Right Hand arranged Reginald so that the man was hanging off his shoulder. At first the Chief could only be dragged along, but, to his credit, after a few steps Reginald seemed to get the idea and sluggishly began putting one foot in front of the other.

The Right Hand Man _did_ blame Sven. Not that he hadn’t suspected it, but...

“Hey,” Burt, as always, took the initiative to drag Sven back to reality, “He’s not actually mad at you. He’s just scared.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Sven mumbled, walking to the back of their tiny white car to pull out his, Reginald, and the Right Hand’s personal bags. He tossed Burt his, and decided not to wrestle it back when Burt took Sven’s own as well.

“I know it feels hopeless now.” Burt exaggerated needing to jump up to grab and close the trunk. They both knew he didn’t need to, but it made Sven smile all the same. “But we’re all still breathing. As long as we’re still breathing, we can fix this. It’ll all be okay, you’ll see.”

“Kind of hard right now.” Sven adjusted his top hat so that his eyes were better shielded from the sun. Reginald and the Right hand were already ahead of them, but between how slowly they were waddling along and the vegetation they’d have to cut through, Sven wasn’t particularly worried about losing them.

Burt suddenly wasn’t looking Sven in the eyes. He was looking down at the ground, arms crossed. “Look, I know it’s rough right now. But hey, just keep in mind... the Chief wanted you to live. He wouldn’t have saved you if he didn’t. He’d be upset if he saw you giving up after he sacrificed himself for you.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have-” Sven let tumble out of his mouth before his brain could stop it. Burt, for what it was worth, managed not to look completely horrified, but he did become decently panicked.

“ _NO._ ” Burt suddenly took both of Sven’s hands in his own. “No, don’t ever say that ever again. The Chief cares about you. _I_ care about you. I-” Burt paused only for a brief second to glance over at the Right Hand before speaking to Sven in hushed tones. “I should’ve saved you. I was closer, I could’ve gotten you out of there before that crystal exploded. But I just... froze. It was my job as your Right Hand to keep you safe. _I’m_ the one who failed.”

Sven swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. The intimate emotion present in Burt’s eyes, past the mask of his face, was a new experience for both of them.

“It’s not going to happen again, Sven. This time, I’m going to keep you safe.”

This was the first time Sven had ever seen Burt this determined. He found himself returning the sentiment with a genuine smile. From personal experience, Sven knew an affirmation of innocence wouldn’t alleviate the guilt, so he squeezed Burt’s hands reassuringly and told him, “We’ll do what we can to save the clan and fix the Chief together. We’ll fix our mistakes.”

_I’ll fix my mistake. No matter what_ _it takes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how Max's design turned out. Also, yes, that is Burt next to them. Burt's smiling like that because his older brother needed braces and he did not. As you can see, Burt has not changed all that much. :)


	6. Bargaining Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk invokes 'good is not nice', feels bad, and the world reacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually has some interesting headcannon/lore, and important plot development, so I hope no one is skipping the Frisk chapters, lol.

**The smell of freshly made hot soup on a cool summer’s eve fills you with DETERMINATION.**

Toriel, in Frisk’s humble opinion, was the best mother _ever_.

There was no yelling when Frisk forgot to walk to the table for dinner instead of running, only a gentle reminder to wash up. When Frisk excitedly drummed on the table, rhythmic tapping at the cheap wood to match the melody playing in their head, they weren’t scolded for being disruptive or weird. And when Frisk excitedly repeated a joke they’d heard earlier that day from Snowdrake while making their rounds, Toriel laughed with fond warmness and joked back, even though Frisk was being a distracting nuisance. Being around Toriel was safe and comforting, and for the first time Frisk wondered if maybe all those television shows where mothers were unconditionally loving and supportive weren’t so fictional after all.

“Alright, my child! Bring your bowl over here!” Frisk complied easily enough, snatching the cheap paper bowl provided by the army so Toriel could fill it up with a thick, warm concoction of vegetables and spices. The hearty smell was mouth-watering, and Frisk barely heard Toriel speaking over the rumbling of their own stomach. “I know it’s not much, but we have to make do with what we have right now-”

By the time she turned around to look at her child, Frisk was already back at the table, inhaling soup by the spoonful. The rich orange liquid dripped down their chin and onto the table, and Toriel’s response was a fond, exasperated sigh.

“...I’m glad you like it.” Toriel finished with a smile, grabbing a coarse dishtowel from her little prep table and bringing it over to wipe the excess soup off of Frisk’s face. She then, in a seasoned motherly move, tucked the towel into Frisk’s collar so that any spilled soup wouldn’t stain their one and only shirt.

Frisk gulped down their current mouthful and said, as politely as they could, “Thank you, mom.”

Toriel smiled that same fond, emotional smile she did whenever Frisk called her ‘mom’.

Dinner proceeded as normal. Toriel poured herself a bowl of soup and joined Frisk at the table, and the two talked about what they did that day. Toriel was still feared and respected by all the monsters, despite no longer being their Queen, and had used that respect to encourage the monsters not to dwell on their current predicament and focus on survival, like how they had on the Underground. Frisk, on the other hand, had been doing their best to keep spirits up, listening to monster’s woes and giving them the same kind of encouragement that they had when trying to convince monsters to SPARE them. All in all, it had been a very busy, harrowing day. It was nice to have a moment of peace.

Then Mister Price entered the tent.

“Ambassador Frisk?” He called from the doorflap, hands tense around his weapon. The relaxed, jovial tone of the evening fled from his presence, bringing the tension of the current situation into their pleasant family dinner. So much for unwinding.

Frisk untucked the towel from their shirt and roughly wiped the soup from their face before turning to face their intruder. They kept their tone polite and professional when they spoke, “Can I help you, Mister Price?”

“The General’s called an emergency meeting with you an’ the King. Didn’t say why.” Mister Price kept his eyes down as he spoke, and Frisk realized he was avoiding Toriel’s burning stare over their head. The child ambassador bit their lip, looked down at their half-finished soup, then sighed. If it was an emergency, the food could wait.

“Mom, can you reheat my dinner for me please?” Frisk asked with their best polite voice.

Disappointed painted itself across Toriel’s face, and Frisk swallowed their own sadness at that. But the future of monsterkind was at stake; if it was an emergency, something had likely gone down, or perhaps the government officials that would set them free had arrived early. Either way, Frisk couldn’t afford to miss that. Not even for a picture perfect, happy family dinner.

If everything went right, there would be a lot more family dinners on the way, anyhow.

Toriel took the remaining soup away, and Frisk followed Mister Price outside. Asgore was already standing out there, awkwardly hunched over to see inside the comparatively small tent. He was still wearing the casual clothing he’d been wearing when serving the monsters earlier that day, but he had also thrown on his royal purple cloak and his crown. The awkward combination made Frisk chuckle, and that alleviated some of the tension Asgore carried on his shoulders. The two walked, and as they entered the human side of the camp, all the soldiers turned to stare at the mountain of a monster that stood so tall over them.

The tension was palpable. Frisk reached to grasp Asgore’s giant hand in their own, to give him what little comfort they could offer. His response was a gentle smile, and Frisk’s soul felt a little lighter.

The two entered the General’s tent together. While they suspected it would probably not be the case that they’d have everything they’d need to discuss the monsters’ situation, Frisk was disappointed to see just how empty the tent was. Mister Galeforce was standing near his desk, and laying on his desk was... another human. A man, casually draped over the desk, who was very clearly not military. Instead of the green uniform every other human in the camp had been wearing, this man was dressed in a leathery motorcycle jacket and brown corduroys. His silvery hair fell over his face, messy and unbrushed. When the man noticed Frisk and Asgore, he sat up, and his bright red eyes met with Frisk’s. Something radiated off of him, something that felt painfully familiar to Frisk.

**You can feel the magic and DETERMINATION radiating from his soul.**

So he, too, was a magic user. Huh. From the way Flowey spoke about SAVES, Frisk thought they were the only one.

“King Asgore,” Galeforce greeted, formal and polite as always. “Ambassador Frisk. Thank you for heeding my summons so quickly.” As he approached them, Frisk noted a few differences in Mister Galeforce. His tired, empty eyes now held a new spark of DETERMINATION, and a number of the rough wrinkles on his face had melted off. He looked refreshed, reinvigorating. Like a man on a mission.

It made Frisk uneasy. Sudden changes like this in a human were rarely good news.

“The pleasure is ours, General.” Asgore greeted politely. Once pleasantries were out of the way, all four of them gathered around the same table they’d met at yesterday. In addition to the map of the Ebott area and strategic notes that had been laid on it during their last meeting, Frisk noted a backpack laid between them as well. That was all it was; a plain, ordinary backpack. But it’s position in such a place of prominence piqued Frisk’s interest far more than a simple backpack should. Mister Galeforce stood on the opposite end of the table, same as last time, and the strange man stood behind him. His eyes were encircled with dark shadows and well, he didn’t look angry exactly, but every bit of him was tensed and on end, like a spooked cat. It made Frisk’s blood boil; once, just once, couldn’t they meet one human who didn’t look at monsters like-

**The strange human’s gaze is boring into you.**

Frisk looked again. Sure enough, that piercing ruby stare was directed down at Frisk, not up at Asgore, and his eyes followed Frisk when they shifted their seat to the left. So it was Frisk that had them so scared? Why?

Before they could dwell further on that topic, General Galeforce spoke again. “A few weeks ago, a criminal organziation known as the Toppat Clan launched a space station into orbit. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to prevent take-off.” A photograph was laid down before them, an image of what looked like a hybrid between one of the fancy government buildings in the capital and a rocket ship. “For weeks, the Toppat Clan sowed chaos and havoc across the world, and a lot of highly expensive treasures were stolen from their rightful owners. And we couldn’t just follow them into space, on account of how highly protected their base was once it was in orbit. We had no idea what to do.

“Then, just a few days ago, I was told that the Toppat Clan’s Orbital Station had been destroyed. It was a huge relief to hear that the thieves who had been terrorizing the innocent people of the world were finally gone, but... there was no celebrating this victory. The station’s destruction came at too high of a price. One of our star pilots, a Mister Calvin, had lead an operation to infiltrate and take down the station, and... didn’t return. He sacrificed himself to defeat the Toppat Clan once and for all.”

The General’s eyes darkened as he spoke of Mister Calvin’s sacrifice, and his breath hitched. He had to take a moment to compose himself. In the back, the strange man crossed his arms and glared at a random corner. Somehow he managed to look even more tired than he had before.

**Their reactions suggest that Mister Calvin the pilot and Charles, the General’s son, are likely the same person.**

Okay, that made sense. But what did this information mean, exactly?

“We thought that meant he was lost for good,” Continued General Galeforce after he composed himself. “But my associate here, a good friend of Mister Calvin’s, has approached me with a... new development in the situation. Let me show you,” Finally the backpack on the table had become relevant, and Galeforce slowly, gently, unlatched the pack, and gave them a short warning of, “You might want to shield your eyes,” before flipping the lip of the backpack open, letting a brilliant green light pour out into the space. Asgore gasped next to them, and when their eyes finally adjusted to the light, Frisk looked over to see a shining green soul, pulled out of the backpack by the General and being gently cradled over his palms.

Looking directly at the soul invoked a familiar feeling in Frisk. They could taste the warmth of Toriel’s soup in their mouth, feel her fur in their little palms. If they focused they could hear Papyrus’ booming voice offering them awful spagetti, or Undyne’s enthusiastic battle cry as she challenged them, or Alphys’ nervous stutter rambling on about mediocre anime. A fuzzy giddiness formed in their chest, a familiar feeling they could not quite recall the name of.

**The soul is radiating KINDNESS. You can feel it in every part of your body.**

Kindness. It felt incredible, and a touch overwhelming.

“That’s...” Asgore’s hands rung nervously as he stared at it. Frisk noticed that his eyes didn’t strain against the light of the soul like theirs did.

“It’s Mister Calvin’s soul,” General Galeforce answered. His voice was noticeably heavier, and he reached to stroke a finger along the side of the soul. Given what little they knew about the nature of souls, Frisk half-expected the finger to pass through the shining heart, but it held firm against the magical construct. The contact brought a tear to Mister Galeforce’s eye, which he shed without shame. “He’s asleep. He can’t wake up. Now, I don’t know anything about souls, or magic... but I’ve been told you all are the experts. If there is any chance, even a small one, that you all can help wake him up...”

“...” Asgore must have been thinking a million things at that moment, and every one of those thoughts reflected on his face; his grief, his sadness, his hope, his empathy. Asgore wanted to help them.

Of course, Frisk did too. They remembered how Mister Galeforce had struggled to keep his tears to himself when they last talked, how he only barely managed to command Mister Price to take care of them before rushing off. The absence of this Charles was weighting heavily on the camp, the General especially, and the thought of seeing all these sad, tired people finally smile gave Frisk a fuzzy feeling of KINDNESS deep in their soul.

**But would that really be the correct choice?**

Frisk frowned.

**It would certainly make the General happy, but what about the monsters? What about your TRUE friends?**

As much as the thought made them feel ill, Frisk couldn’t help but see the logic in that. Helping the humans, no strings attached, would not do anything for the monsters. They would still be stuck here, still waiting for some old men in suits to come tell them that they were ‘too dangerous to go free’, or something similarly nonsensical. It was the humans who held the power, and Frisk needed every advantage they could get just to level the playing field. Throwing that away just to be nice felt irresponsible.

A choice stood before them. Certainly, choosing to help the General would be the _nice_ thing to do, but it wouldn’t help the monsters at all. And protecting the monsters... that was Frisk’s job.

**Choosing to protect your new family fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

“We’ll do everything we can to help Mister Calvin,” Frisk propped themselves up with their hands, leaning over the table, “on one condition: You have to move up the meeting with the politicians.”

“...” Asgore turned to look at Frisk. For a brief, terrifying moment, Frisk was afraid he would contradict them, insist on offering aid anyways, but the giant goat man only moved a little closer to Frisk, standing over them much like Toriel did in those early moments back in the Underground.

The demand put a harsher glare on the face of the stranger standing in the back, but the General remained composed. He said, “Ambassador, as I’ve already told you, I can’t summon the politicians here any faster. I don’t have that kind of power.”

“I understand that, sir, but the monsters have to focus on keeping up morale and protecting themselves until we can be assured of their safety. We, unfortunately, won’t be able to provide you with the proper aid until after the meeting takes place.” Under the scrutiny of these two tall men, both obviously powerful in different ways, it took all of Frisk’s DETERMINATION not to coil in on themselves. But they held firm, despite their fears. Frisk had always been good at keeping silent and stoic, a learned necessity at their last few foster homes, and they put that skill to good use, remaining unaffected in the face of their obvious grief.

“Frisk-Ambassador,” The slip told Frisk that Galeforce was likely panicking, which was good, probably, “He may not have that kind of time.”

“I understand you’re just taking care of your people, sir,” Frisk answered steadily, “but I have to take care of mine, first and foremost. Until we can have this meeting, I can’t ask them to-”

“I’ll get it done.”

Frisk, Asgore, and General Galeforce turned to the man who was standing in the back. His eyes were burning brightly with his DETERMINATION.

“Henry, you don’t have that kind of power, either.” General Galeforce scolded, but he sounded... uncertain, for lack of a better term. Like he wasn’t sure what power this Henry person _did_ have. “...right?”

“It’s for Charles,” Henry responded like the answer should be obvious, “I’ll find a way.”

With that, Henry made a quick exit, slipping out the rear exit of the tent. Mister Galeforce chased after, yelling in an uncertain panic about what Mister Stickmin was planning. That left Asgore and Frisk alone in the command tent, watching the dispute awkwardly from the far end of the table.

“...was that truly the right thing to do?” Asgore asked them.

“No,” Frisk answered honestly. “It wasn’t the _right_ thing to do, but I believe it was the _smart_ thing. With how bad our situation is, we can’t afford to make decisions purely based on how we’re feeling.”

“Well, I’ve certainly made plenty of bad choices based on feelings,” Asgore reflected with a sad chuckle, then steeled himself and looked down at Frisk, “but this may have lasting consequences we cannot see as of yet. We don’t even know if we _can_ help this ‘Mister Calvin’.”

Asgore raised an excellent point, one Frisk hadn’t considered. Humans and monsters hadn’t been in regular contact for a long, long time, and whatever knowledge monsters had about human souls was probably lost. Even so, Alphys had been researching souls and DETERMINATION for a long time, and even if she didn’t believe in her self, Frisk certainly believed in her. Frisk had no doubt that, with a little encouragement and enough excitement, Alphys would be able to do it.

So Frisk responded, “I know we can figure something out. I have faith in the monsters.”

“I’ll trust your judgment on this, young one,” Asgore told them, smiling kindly. “You’ve won the hearts of so many that had hated you. I know you can win over the humans as well.”

They walked back to the monster camp hand-in-hand, but this time, it was Frisk who was drawing comfort from Asgore’s presence.

“Goodnight, MK.” Frisk told their fellow kid as they settled into bed. The armless monster squirmed a little in their hammock, nervously glancing at Frisk.

Before the little Ambassador could apologize for the likely uncomfortable accommodations, MK asked, “Yo, uh, you gonna have some free time tomorrow? Sorry, I know what you’re doing is real important, but...”

“No, I get it,” Frisk did. They’d talked some before beginning the descent down the mountain, and Frisk had promised to teach them some human surface games. Naively, Frisk thought after they reached the city, everything would magically be fine, and they’d have plenty of time to play with the first friend their age they’d ever made. “I want to play with you too. There’s just a lot going on right now. But I swear, the second I get some free time, we’ll finally get to play.”

“That’s cool, no rush.” Having gotten that off their chest, MK turned and snuggled into their hammock, “’Night, Frisk. See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Frisk whispered, already hearing the snores from their friend. They walked back outside into the darkness; the night had come again, and it was almost too dark to see where they were going. Having spent their entire lives in the darkness of the Underground, monsters didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating by moonlight, but Frisk found themselves tripping constantly over rocks and random debris. The hustle and bustle of the day was winding down, and monsters were once again preparing for bed in this strange, moonlit camp.

“heya kid.”

Even though that voice was familiar, Frisk gasped and nearly tripped with how quickly they spun around.

Sans stood casually next to the fence that surrounded the campsite, leaning against it as he flashed that same lazy grin at Frisk. Frisk liked Sans. They did, really. It was just that sometimes, even though he probably didn’t _intend_ to be creepy, he set off the same bells in Frisk’s head that walking alone through the city at night did. Still, he was a good brother to their best friend Papyrus, and a genuinely funny comedian, so Frisk could put up with those bad vibes.

**The humour is a part of what makes him creepy. How he can so easily switch between two very different personas.**

Regardless, Frisk smiled at her bony skelefriend and asked, “Sans, where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.” Which was especially strange, as down in the Underground they could barely turn a corner without Sans popping up somewhere.

“oh you know. around.” Sans shrugged, not really bothered by Frisk’s concern. “found a nice spot to nap where nobody can spot me. which is real good, since undynes been pressurin us to keep a watch on the human soldiers. being in this camp sure has her on edge.”

“It has all of us on edge.” Frisk agreed.

“yeah. everyones been doing crazy things they dont normally do. parents are fighting, the shopkeepers are giving things away for free,” The lights of Sans’ eyes shifted in Frisk’s direction, sending a shiver down their spine. For some reason, they felt a sense of guilty dread. “our ambassador is holding a guy hostage. you know, that sort of stuff.”

**You feel your sins crawling down your back.**

“I-I’m not holding anyone hostage.” Frisk put on their best stoic face, but it was always a little harder with Sans.

“not physically, sure. but threatening not to help the generals dead son is a bit,” Sans winked, “ _soul_ less of you.”

“How do you even know about that?” They couldn’t keep up the stoic bit; Frisk’s fear crawled up their spine and slithered around their arms, leaving them shaking like a leaf.

“oh, come on, you really think you can keep _skeletons_ in your closet from me?” Despite his jovial, nonchalant tone, Sans circled the small human, like a vulture watching its prey. “ya know, i didnt really expect you to be the type to threaten someone into doing what you want. then again, i didnt expect you to be the sparing type, either.” The skeleton paused his pacing, looking up at the star-spotted sky, “i wonder if youll just send us back this time too.”

Oh, and didn’t that just put Frisk into a cold sweat? “This time?” They asked dumbly.

“...” Sans looked them over, measuring them up, then smiled wider, “ah, lighten up, kiddo. im just messing with you. now if youll excuse me, papyrus is probably finished with dinner right about now, so i wont have to pretend to enjoy any of his amazing spaghetti,” Sans patted them on the head, his bony hand rougher than Toriel’s on Frisk’s scalp, “ill catch you around, squirt.”

And then Sans took off, heading in the opposite direction of where Frisk knew Papyrus had set up their stuff.

**Dealing with that skeleton has made you tired.**

Indeed, Frisk felt like going to sleep and not waking up for another few centuries. Unfortunately, there was one more stop they had to make before they could retire for the night.

Alphys’ and Undyne had gotten one of the larger tents in the camp for two reasons: firstly, because it was doubling as a ‘just-in-case’ infirmary, and had two neat rows of cots set up for any prospective patients the doctor could get. The second reason was that Alphys had a mountain of machinery; basically, she’d brought everything she could carry that didn’t require the thermonuclear power of the core to function. Despite no longer being the Royal Scientist, Alphys took great care to maintain Mettaton, as well as look after the Amalgamates she’d unintentionally created.

It was also close to the edge of the camp, so Frisk was a bit worried about what they would walk into. It could have been anything from ‘adult’ anime to Undyne deciding that Alphys needed another motivational pile driver. Fortunately, they were just chasing the memoryheads around, trying to get a scan on their souls.

“Guys! Come on, please don’t make this any harder!” The dinosaur doctor cried. Her short stature meant that all the floating creatures had to do to avoid her was fly just a little higher than her every time she jumped. They laughed whenever she missed them: a creepy, distorted sound, like a recording of a real laugh submerged in water.

They were unsettling to look at, essentially being a mass of floating faces melted together and struggling to take any sort of solid form. All the amalgamates were like that, though: they were normal monsters once, but lost all HOPE, or became sick, and entered a state of near death that the monsters called ‘Fallen Down’. Thanks to Doctor Alphys’ intervention, the monsters avoided dying, but an overabundance of DT, the distillation of the desire to live, caused them to melt together into twisted forms. Now that she didn’t have the pressures of being the Royal Scientist to distract her, Doctor Alphys was focusing the entirety of her research on making their lives as comfortable as possible.

Her first step, she’d told Frisk as she’d set up her equipment earlier that day, was properly examining all of their souls with special equipment, to see if she could determine how much DT was left in their systems.

Clearly, that was going well.

“GET DOWN HERE, YOU PUNK!” Undyne shouted after another one of the memoryheads. Undyne was taller than Alphys, and could jump higher, so the memoryhead toyed with her by quickly moving out of the way whenever she leapt up to get them, resulting in no fewer than five holes in their tent. When Frisk noticed that, they sighed and hoped the Snowdin Shopkeeper wouldn’t mind helping them sew that up tomorrow.

After a moment of pondering, Frisk pulled their cellphone out of their pocket and opened it. Immediately all three memoryheads rushed to their side, speaking their creepy greetings through the phone’s speaker. They babbled on and on about nothing of particular note, and Frisk listened, keeping their attention as Alphys crept up behind one and began the scan. One. Two. Three. Then Frisk asked the memoryheads for some alone time with the former Royal Scientist and former Royal Guard Captain, and they obliged, making a beeline straight for their families.

“Aw, gee, thanks Frisk.” The Doctor expressed with obvious relief. How long had she been chasing those poor things around, anyways? “I thought we’d be at this all night!”

Undyne grumbled something under her breath. Her tone suggested the words probably weren’t decent for Frisk’s ears.

“It’s no problem,” The child answered with a reassuring smile. Doctor Alphys could be sensitive; her mistakes weighed heavy on her soul, and she struggled against her guilt constantly. Unlike the other monsters, she could use a delicate, reassuring touch sometimes.

“Come check this out!” Doctor Alphys led the child over to the table where her computer was set up. A few button presses, some clicks of the mouse, and a strange graph was presented on the screen. “I was developing this program on my computer back in the Underground. It measures the presence of various traits in the soul: see that white line? That’s their HOPE,” Alphys followed a fairly even white line across the screen with her stubby yellow fingers, “And that red line is their DETERMINATION.” Higher on the graph was a red line that was slowly and steadily declining. “It hasn’t gone down much, but the DT is being used up. Eventually, I think they’ll either run out of DT, or their souls will start producing small amounts. At the very least, I’m pretty sure they won’t be stuck in these forms for all of eternity. So that’s something.”

“Even if they were, you’d find some way to make sure they’re taken care of.” Undyne reassured. “You’re amazing like that.”

Alphys flushed pink. They’d been dating for only a few days, so she was still getting used to consistent reassurance and affection. “Um, thanks Undyne, uh...” Suddenly, Alphys voice raised a few decibels in volume, “So Frisk! Uh, Did you need something?!”

“I wanted to ask you about souls,” Frisk answered. “Human souls, to be specific.”

“Human souls?” The monster scientists blinked at Frisk, before smiling nervously, “Um, I mostly just know about DETERMINATION, but I’ll answer whatever questions I can!”

**(Ask about SOULS AFTER DEATH) (Ask about SOULS AND DETERMINATION) (Ask about SOULS AND KINDNESS)**

“What happens to a human soul when a human dies?” Frisk asked.

“Well, you know how when monsters get sick or lose HOPE they fall down?” Alphys asked, as if the amalgamates weren’t a living reminder of that terrible fate, “A human soul after death sort of enters a similar state. They’re so closely tied to their physical bodies that they sort of... shut down from the physical trauma of dying. Like a monster that’s fallen down, a human in this state is difficult, almost impossible, to wake up.”

“But you woke up the amalgamates.” Undyne pointed out. She’d taken a seat near one end of the table. “Does that mean you can wake a human soul too?”

“That’s... complicated,” Alphys looked a little uncertain now. “Um, this is only a hypothesis based on what I’ve observed from the amalgamates and the human souls, but I think that human souls fade away because, in this state, the souls aren’t producing determination, or any of the other traits that make up a human soul. Theoretically, if you could kickstart the production of those traits, you could prevent a soul from fading, and even wake them back up. But, uh-”

“That’s easier said than done?” Guessed the child.

“Yeah.”

**(Ask about SOULS AND DETERMINATION) (Ask about SOULS AND KINDNESS)**

“What is the relationship between human souls and DETERMINATION?” Frisk asked.

“Now, this is all just theory.” Alphys answered, looking a little excited. This was, after all, the focal point of her research. She knew about DETERMINATION. “But I believed DETERMINATION is the most important trait in a human’s soul. It’s what allows their souls to persist after death, and what holds their souls together when they’re alive. When human souls run out of DETERMINATION, well, it’s basically like what happens when a monster soul runs out of HOPE. They just... dissolve. Disappear into thin air. Nobody knows what happens after that. But even the most determined souls don’t last more than a few days.”

“Wait, hold up,” Undyne interrupted, looking puzzled, “The human souls we collected... we’ve had them for AGES. How come they hadn’t faded?”

“Oh, that’s because of the soul capsules they were put in. Here, let me...” Alphys ducked under the table for a moment, then pulled out one of those familiar looking capsules. Without the light of a human soul shimmering inside, it was just a plain gray capsule, but they were definitely the same. “These capsules actually stimulate DT production. I don’t think they could wake a soul, but that’s probably a good thing. Uh, anyways, that’s what kept the human souls from fading away while we collected them.”

“Neat!” Undyne cheered, “I didn’t know you’d made something like that.”

Her encouragement, this time, was met with confusion, “Oh, uh, I didn’t make those. The former Royal Scientist did. You know, the one before me? The person who made the CORE?”

“...Wait, you were the first Royal Scientist... right?” Both woman seemed incredibly befuddled now as they struggled to reconcile their mismatched memories.

“No.” Alphys insisted. “No, I’m sure there was someone before me... can we talk about something else please? This is giving me a headache...”

**(Ask about SOULS AND KINDNESS)**

“What do you know about the human trait of KINDNESS?” Frisk asked.

Alphys had to take a moment to think about this. “Um, okay, so you remember what I said about souls being made up of multiple traits? Well, KINDNESS is one of those traits. Along with DETERMINATION, BRAVERY, JUSTICE, PATIENCE, INTEGRITY, and PERSEVERANCE. Each trait has a different role in the human soul, but I’m not sure what exactly that is for any trait except DETERMINATION? Sorry, my research was kind of narrowed to what could help us break the Barrier...”

“That’s fine.” Frisk reassured. “It’s not actually important, I was just curious.”

“When I was a kid,” Undyne interrupted, drawing their attention to her, “My mom used to tell me that only the kindest of humans were capable of powerful healing magic. I just thought that was her way of saying humans couldn’t heal at all... but if KINDNESS is a part of the human soul, like DETERMINATION is, then maybe there’s a relationship between these ‘traits’ and the magic humans can perform?”

Wow. That was an impressive observation, considering it was Undyne.

Her unofficial hypothesis had Alphys on the verge of swooning. “That’s actually a really interesting idea! According to some history books I’ve read – um, real ones, not manga – humans were able to perform magic in the past, but every human we’ve met so far seems amazed by the concept. I wonder if there are any human magic users left?”

Frisk bit their lip and said nothing.

Behind Frisk, somebody cleared their throat. Undyne was the first to react to the strangers presence, immediately standing so that she was between Alphys and this potential threat. The doctor herself squeaked nervously, and shrunk in on herself, the way she tended to do around strange new people. Frisk spun around immediately.

**The stranger from that evening’s meeting approaches.**

Oh, it was that guy. He had a name. What was it again?

As if reading their mind, the stranger approached slowly and cautiously, keeping his eyes trained on Frisk and ignoring Undyne and Alphys, obviously tense, in the background. He held out a hand to them. “Henry Stickmin. We met early today.”

Right, Henry. That was his name.

“Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr,” The younger human returned politely, reluctantly accepting his handshake. His eyes were like Sans’, trained on them as if he was expecting the worse at any moment. It was a touch unsettling. “Do you need something?”

“I made some phone calls after our meeting,” Henry removed his hand and stuck it in his pocket. “Naturally, I can’t call the president or the senate out here anytime soon, but the mayor of Ebott City and the City Council will be heading our way first thing in the morning. They should be here by tomorrow afternoon.”

“WHAT?!” Undyne exclaimed, mouth agape.

Frisk’s breath hitched. They’d set this ultimatum themselves, but even they hadn’t gotten their hopes up for this to happen _that_ quickly. “How did you do that?”

Henry smirked, a cruel quirk of his mouth that told Frisk that maybe they didn’t want to know after all. “Let’s just say Mayor Hartford owes me a... favour, as it were. He won’t flake out,” The smirk turned into a bitter scowl, “He better not. But I’ve kept up my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”

Those red eyes, burning bright with DETERMINATION, pierced into Frisk’s own. Beyond his serious expression Frisk could see the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the way one hand was clutching at his chest, grabbing at the shirt under his jacket with a tight fist. He was keeping himself cool, but this man was clearly running on fumes.

“Doctor Alphys,” Frisk addressed the dinosaur in the room, who jumped at the sound of her name. “The reason I asked you all those questions was because this man is in possession of a human soul, and he’s asked for our help waking it up. Do you think your equipment can help us figure out how to do that?”

Undyne stood up straight, a dawning look of understanding crossing her features. Still cowering behind her, Alphys struggled to stutter out, “Um, well, I... maybe? Probably? I can keep it from fading, for sure, but figuring out how to wake it up might take time-”

“As long as you can save him, I don’t care how much time it takes.” Henry interrupted.

“Then, uh, I guess I can do it?”

“You know you can do it.” Undyne corrected, almost reflexively at this point.

“I KNOW I can do it!” Just the sound of her girlfriend’s encouragement poured confidence into Alphys. Then her better judgment prevailed, letting her know that making big promises like that was pretty irresponsible, “I mean, uh, I’ll do my best. Your soul will be in good hands.”

Henry squinted his eyes at them, sizing the two monsters up. Whatever he saw must have at least pacified him, because he responded with a simple nod, “Right. I’ll bring him over here.”

“Make sure not to let anyone see him!” Alphys called as Henry went to leave. He paused. “The monsters are still really spooked by humans. I don’t know how they’ll react to seeing a human soul.”

The human only nodded in acknowledgment as he left.

For a moment, all was silent as both women in the room processed what just happened. As per usual, Undyne reacted first. “What did you DO, Frisk?”

Frisk filled them in on Charles, his relationship to the General (and Henry, Frisk supposed, though they had no idea what his connection to the dead man was), and the agreement Frisk had made. A pang of guilt hit them as they thought about the General’s sad eyes, or the way Henry carried himself like he was trying not to fall over.

**You did what was best for everyone.**

Frisk ignored them.

“I, uh, I can’t say that I entirely agree with what you did... holding our help over their heads like that,” Alphys told them gently, “but I suppose I’m not really one to talk, after all the shady stuff I pulled.”

“HEY!” Undyne snapped, “Do you want me to get Papyrus in here for another round of confidence training?!”

“No, no! That’s okay!” Alphys took a few steps back, “I’m just gonna... stand over here and prep everything for their arrival, heh. And I’m _not_ garbage.”

Undyne responded with a huff and a quiet, “Damn right you’re not,” Before turning her attention back to Frisk. “For what’s it’s worth, I think you made the right call. After seeing what a pansy you were Underground, I didn’t think you had it in you!” Undyne flashed them one of her cheeky, toothy smiles, showing off every one of her sharp fangs. Despite that, Frisk didn’t feel endangered in the slightest. “But you’re right,” Her mood tapered off into something more subdued, “No matter how bad this may feel, we need every advantage we can get against these humans, or they’ll stomp all over us.”

Frisk nodded. Their stomach was still in knots, thinking about Charles and the grief his absence called, but so far everything was working out for the best. They’d get their meeting, Charles would get help, and nobody got hurt over the issue.

Everything would turn out fine.

“Thank you for having me, Mister Petrov,” A man in a silken suit greeted the old warden with a smirk.

Dmitri Petrov nodded, though he didn’t look nearly as happy to see the well-dressed man as he was to see Dmitri. As the two walked through the crumbling concrete halls of the Wall, Mister Petrov tried convincing the man not to go through with this asinine idea.

“Sir, I must insist you reconsider,” Dmitri pleaded. “These convicts are dangerous, and _her_ even more so than the average. We’ve had to upgrade her security to solitary confinement after she attempted a solo escape, following after another convict who is now dead. Fortunately for her, we caught her before she could make similar mistakes.”

The well-to-do man responded by waving an accordion folder in his face, stuffed to the brim with papers of various weights and colours. On the front side was printed a single name: _Ellie Rose_.

“She’s just the kind of person I need.” He told Dmitri.

Miss Rose’s cell was at the very end of the solitary confinement hallway; a huge metal slab separated her from the rest of the world. Mister Petrov gave a reluctant nod to the guard trailing after them, and he pulled open the cell.

And there she was.

Her clothes and hair were unkempt, though her files suggested that this was not uncommon for her even before imprisonment. Her head was tilted down towards the ground, passed her shackled hands. She made no notice of their presence, no indication that she was even awake.

“Rise and shine, convict!” Dmitri commanded sternly, slamming his fist against the steel door frame. It buckled against his strength. “You have a visitor.”

Ellie’s head tilted upward, her violet eyes narrowing up at the two men darkening her doorway. Other than that, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched and waited.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rose. I’m sure I need not introduce myself.” He smirked down at her as she continued to stare up at him, no emotion passing her face. “I’ve been looking over your file, and I must say, I’m quite impressed. Breaking into the Senate building, theft of one of the Lost Scrolls, a heist on the manor of the most notorious mob bosses in all of New York... you keep yourself busy, Miss Rose.”

“...” She squinted up at him, obviously trying to piece together his angle.

The well-dressed man paced around the cell, continuing to talk at Ellie, “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, cooped up in here, but monsters have recently been discovered somewhere in the Ebott area. And I know it’s the Ebott area, because a dear friend of mine is the Mayor of Ebott City. He and I just spoke a few hours ago, and let me tell you, he was NOT happy.

“You see, my friend had urges that could not be satisfied in his marriage, so he was forced to... step out on his beloved wife for a bit. And now he’s received anonymous threats from an unknown individual, letting him know that if he didn’t meet with the leaders of the monsters tomorrow, news of his affair would be leaked out onto the internet, along with ‘video evidence’. The anonymous caller then proceeded to... ‘demonstrate’ their evidence.

“Now, I don’t know how this person got a hold of this evidence, but the only person that benefits from this meeting being moved up is the Monster Ambassador. It can only be them. This heinous act proves, without a shadow of a doubt, that the monsters cannot be trusted. We need them taken care of, and we need that traitor of an ambassador dead before they can hurt any other humans. Take care of this for us, and we’ll not only pardon you, but reward you so generously that you’ll never have to steal again.”

Dmitri Petrov, in the background, huffed at the offer. “I still think this is a mistake, sir. These convicts do not change-”

“Your opinion has been noted, Dmitri,” Waved off the wealthy man. “Now, Miss Rose, do we have a deal?”

Ellie’s hardened expression never wavered as she nodded and spoke for the first time in a long time, “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Please do not blackmail politicians. Highkey sure that's illegal. If you come across evidence some famous jerk is cheating on their spouse, just out them without the hassle. /jk


	7. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Stickmin vs. His Emotions: The Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight tw: Henry has a panic attack this chapter. I'm not sure how bad it is, I've partially based it off of how I've felt during meltdowns, but it starts at the bolded section and ends at the picture.

General Galeforce’s expression remained stony and hard as he reviewed the video Henry gave to him. Mercifully he was watching with a pair of earbuds, so Henry was shrouded in silence as he waited, keeping himself amused with thoughts of what the suddenly serious Rupert Price, standing guard outside, would think if they _hadn’t_ had headphones. When the video was over, the poor old man took a deep, calming breath, slowly removed the earbuds from his ears, then turned to ask Henry, “What in the fresh hell did I just watch, son?”

“That would be Mayor Hartford of Ebott City,” Henry answered with a false sense of casual calmness, “and a Miss Robin Peters, runner up in the Miss Florida competition two years ago, going at it like rabbits in a five-star hotel in New Mexico.”

The General quirked up an eyebrow, staring at Henry with a million questions painted on his face. “And would you care to tell me how you got a hold of this?”

“Uhh...” Henry bit his lip, thinking back to the fateful day he’d taken that video from the vents of that very posh hotel. “That depends. Does my pardon cover crimes you don’t know about?”

“...on second thought, never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

With that Henry took his phone back, snatching it before the General got the bright idea to delete the video, or worse, search his phone for anything else incriminating. “The important thing,” He said, hoping to force the conversation away from this topic, “is that with this, I was able to convince the Mayor of Ebott City to meet with Frisk and the monsters tomorrow. He put up a fight, but the bastard won’t risk a scandal with re-election coming up soon.”

“You blackmailed him?” Asked the incredulous General, “Henry, what were you _thinking_? If anyone found out- you could get thrown back in prison for this!”

“I don’t care.” Henry spat back at the General. He then turned to pick up Charles, nestled safely inside his worn old knapsack, so that he wouldn’t have to look at the slightly hurt expression that crossed Galeforce’s face. “As long as Charles gets the help he needs, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

“Even so,” The General reached out his arm, as if to offer his comfort to Henry, but stopped himself, leaving his arm dangling awkwardly between them. The old man balled his hand into a fist and pulled it to his chest, letting it rest above one of the medals adorning his chest. “Charles wouldn’t be happy if he found out you got arrested for him. He’ll want to see you when he wakes up, so try and be careful, okay?”

Henry resisted the urge to snort at the attempt at comfort, and just nodded mutely. He pulled Charles onto his back and winced quietly as that caused a flare up of pain in his chest. Henry brushed off the ache, waved off the General’s concerned question with a, “Just sore from the crash,” and marched off into the camp, towards where the monsters were camping out. Behind him Henry could hear the General trailing closely behind with Rupert. He did his best to ignore them.

In spite of the anxiety that one of the monsters would notice Charles’ soul and freak out, Henry found himself enjoying walking through the monsters side of the camp. Half of the population had retired for the evening, but there were still plenty of the magical creatures up and about. There was this cozy openness to each of them, and if it weren’t for the General and his guard walking behind him or the wayward soul in his knapsack, Henry might have stopped to talk to some of them. Like those skeletons, for example.

“SERIOUSLY? HOW IS THIS SOCK _STILL_ ON THE FLOOR? I KNOW I PACKED IT AWAY!”

“no clue, bro, but you really gotta _sock_ it to the little thing.”

“GAH!”

They seemed like a _riot_.

The medical tent that was their destination was situated on the far side of the camp. It was the largest of the monster’s tents, despite only two monsters residing inside. And once they entered the structure, it was plain to see why; two rows of cots took up the majority of the free space in the tent, and what little was left was filled with sleek, complicated machinery. The Doctor Henry had been introduced to earlier that evening was fiddling with one of the machines, a clear glass capsule capped on both ends with dark metal. Looming ominously over her was her girlfriend, a blue woman Henry could only describe as an anthropomorphic shark lady. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the three men enter the tent, and she flashed them a grin that was more meant to show off her razor-sharp teeth than her joyous emotions. And besides her, sitting comfortably in an oversized chair and legs swinging in harmony with their humming, was the young Ambassador Frisk.

Nobody said anything until the Doctor peeked up, maybe to ask her girlfriend for something, and shrieked as she spotted the three strangers darkening her doorway. “Oh my gosh! I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even hear you come in!” The frantic woman immediately pushed herself up, scuttling towards them with obvious anxiety, “I-I assumed you would be taking a while.”

“I told you I’d be right back.” Henry responded, feeling the corners of his mouth perk up in an involuntary smile.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be _right_ back!” The doctor retorted. The gentle hand of her shark girlfriend brought her back to reality. “But- uh, right, that’s not important. Bring the soul over here and place it in the container. This device will stimulate DT production in the soul until we can figure out how to wake it up.”

With a simple nod, Henry swung Charles off his back and, looking around to make sure nobody else would barge in, deposited the glowing green soul into the device. It clicked as it locked Charles in and began to hum gently, the machinery causing the slowly fading glow around Charles to spark anew, causing each human in the room to squint against the onset of brilliant light.

“So ‘at’s ‘im then?” Asked Rupert Price, clutching his familiar rifle tightly, “’at’s Charles?”

“Yup.” Henry answered absently, leaning next to the container to look closer at Charles. His condition was already better; the tiny green core seemed to sparkle with the additional DETERMINATION.

The Doctor checked something on the machine, then nodded her satisfaction. “Good. Everything’s functioning normally... now I’m going to run a full analysis on him.”

“’ow can you tell?” The guard asked, moving to stand next to Henry. His eyes squinted as he examined the soul as closely as he dared, looking for some clue, some sort of sign that this was really their fallen friend.

Until that moment General Galeforce had hung back, observing with calculating interest. Now he spoke up, “You can’t tell? When I look at him, I can... just _feel_ that it’s Charles. It’s difficult to explain... I just _know_.”

“Just know, huh?” Rupert peered closer. Henry could tell the gears in his head were spinning. “I feel... warm and fluffy when I look at ‘im, but, like, in the same way ya feel when ya look at a cute puppy, ya know?”

“That’s the KINDNESS,” Henry murmured, then continued a little louder when he realized the others were staring at him. “It might be because you’re not as close with Charles. Because Galeforce spent a lot of time with Charles before... today, he’s more familiar with his presence.”

“And you?” Rupert looked up at Henry with a raised brow.

“I was already familiar with magic before today,” Henry waved off. Like hell was he going to tell these government stooges about the SAVES. “Just knowing about magic makes it easier for you to understand- don’t touch that!” While he was talking, Henry had failed to notice Frisk crawling up to the container until their grubby little mitts were already smudging the glass.

Henry had not known Frisk for long, but he’d already decided that he couldn’t trust the child. It was hard to put a ‘why’ into concrete reasons; perhaps it was the way they’d quietly stare with those big red eyes of theirs, no indication of emotion on their face; or perhaps it was the bizarrely pungent thrum of DETERMINATION that constantly radiated from their soul, so unnaturally strong that Henry could feel it from underneath their physical body the same way he could feel KINDNESS from Charles’ exposed soul. Regardless, having the creepy little child so close to Charles caused an unfamiliar surge of protective fury in Henry – the kind that was definitely not appropriate to direct at a child.

So instead of smacking their hands away from his best friend and screaming himself hoarse, Henry gently pushed their greasy little mitts away.

“It’s alright!” The Doctor reassured them from behind her console. “Frisk isn’t strong enough to break that glass, and you need clearance to make the machines do literally anything. Nobody but myself or the King could get into the capsules.”

Henry was satisfied by that, but now it was Rupert’s turn to cast suspicion, “We sure it’s a good idea to leave Charles with these... monsters?” He asked with a scowl.

“HEY!” The shark woman shouted quite suddenly, causing three of the humans (not Frisk, Henry noted) to flinch at the surprisingly loud noise. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?! You think Alphys is just gonna run off with the soul?!”

“I’m just sayin’-” Henry was about to interject, but the argument Rupert was about to stupidly start was finished before it began by Doctor Alphys’ machine dinging, followed by her excited cheer.

Another machine made continuous noise, spitting out a piece of paper that Doctor Alphys snatched up with a satisfying ripping noise. She took a moment to adjust her glasses. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here...”

Everyone, even Rupert, huddled around Alphys to look at the chart she’d just printed out. Seven coloured lines were scribbled across the paper, the hues suggesting that they were measuring the seven traits within a human soul. The characters along each side of the graph made zero sense to Henry, so he couldn’t quite understand what it was telling them, but he suspected Rupert and Galeforce understood it even less.

“This is fascinating!” Doctor Alphys spoke, more directed at herself than any of them. “According to this chart, Charles’ highest trait is KINDNESS – no surprise – but he also has a bizarrely high level of DETERMINATION. Way more than he should have after being dead for a few days...” The Doctor scratched her chin, “Actually, with how long he’s been dead, he should have already faded. I’m amazed he’s held on for this long.”

The faint memory of extracting DETERMINATION from his own soul caused another ache to echo through his chest. Henry swallowed past it and said, “Charles is VERY determined. I’m not surprised.”

Everyone accepted the passing comment without hassle except for, of course, Frisk. The child’s eyes squinted up at Henry, scrutinizing his every move. A familiar anxiety crept into Henry’s chest, attempting to steal his breath, but he refused to let this _child_ scare him away.

“Okay, now that we’ve got a, uh, a baseline scan for where Charles is at while sleeping, I’m going to run some simple tests to see how he reacts to magic.” Alphys told them.

General Galeforce hovered over her shoulder. He was trying to remain the cool, business-like General, but there was palpable tension in his stance. The old man asked, “And you’re sure these tests are safe? They won’t hurt him?”

“Uh, don’t worry, it’ll all be healing magic I’m exposing him to,” reassured the Doctor patiently, “If it makes you feel better, I can use the magic on you before I use it on Charles. It might take a little longer, but...”

This compromise seemed to pacify the General. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

General Galeforce, Rupert, Doctor Alphys and the shark woman all crowded around the container which held Charles’ soul. Henry moved to join them, but stopped when he noticed Frisk take the opportunity to slip out of the tent.

Now where were they going...?

Henry followed behind the child, years of sneaking around allowing him to move as silently as a mouse. Once outside the tent, Frisk quickly ran around the far side of the tent, and as Henry slowly followed he could hear them talking; at first, incoherent mumbling, then as Henry drew closer he could begin to make out the words.

“...shouldn’t talk about him like that!” Frisk’s hushed voice scolded... somebody. “He’s just worried about his friend, he’s not any danger to us!” A moment of silence followed, then Frisk continued, “Oh, like you wouldn’t have been exact same way with Asr- no, it isn’t different!”

Henry paused, took deep breaths until the tension in his chest was mostly dissolved, and slowly moved around the corner. Nobody was standing beside Frisk. They were alone.

Frisk kept talking. “He’s been kinder to the monsters than any other human we’ve met. So long as he doesn’t try anything, there’s no reason to be mean to- Henry!”

At that precise moment, Frisk had turned around and was now looking them directly in the eye. As the seconds passed, Henry felt a new knot in his stomach, one that grew tighter and tighter. He should say something, anything, to relieve that tension, but something snatched the words out of his mouth before they could be spoken aloud.

Eventually, Frisk broke the silence, “What are you doing out here?” Shortly after asking, their face curled up in annoyance. They said nothing, but Henry wondered if they were silently accusing him of something.

It was difficult, but Henry managed to force out the words in his head. “I... saw you leave and got worried.” Which was true enough, “Who were you talking to?”

“Uhh...” Frisk stared up at him, the low tone of that unprepared hum filling the silence between them, “My... self?”

Henry quirked an eyebrow at them, but didn’t argue.

“Anyways, you’re a magic-user too, right?” Frisk asked them suddenly. “Like, you can RESET and stuff?”

It was impossible to hide the truth from someone who knew about souls and magic, so Henry reluctantly nodded, taking a seat next to the kid. Their eyes watched him cautiously, trailing down to follow his hands as he signed along with his words. “Yeah, I know how to use time magic.”

“That’s so neat!” Frisk plopped down right in front of him, looking up with those big, red eyes. For maybe the first time since they’d met, they were smiling. “How often do you RESET? Has anyone ever noticed your LOADS? How often do you SAVE? Have you ever met anyone else who can RESET?”

Frisk threw all sorts of questions at Henry, inching closer and closer with each inquiry, and Henry had to hold out his hands and put a physical barrier between himself and the creepy little kid. “Hey, hey, personal space!” He scolded, struggling to push his voice past an invisible barrier of his throat. Once Frisk moved back, the barrier vanished. “Look, kid, if I share, you share too,” He decided. Any information he could get on this unnaturally determined little creep would be useful.

Frisk hummed, exaggeratedly stroking their little chin before nodding, “Alright. So, when I fell down into the Underground, I got knocked out for a bit when I hit the ground.” Henry couldn’t help but wince in sympathy, remembering all the times he’d face-planted from high places. Sometimes the damage had been so bad he’d had to LOAD. “While unconscious... I had this dream... and when I woke up, I knew how to SAVE and LOAD and RESET.”

“A dream?” Henry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember it...” Frisk’s expression hardly changed as they talked, so it was hard to tell from that if they were lying, but something inside Henry told him that wasn’t quite right. Call him paranoid, he guessed. “But it was like... anytime I saw something that made me want to keep moving, I could go back to that moment whenever I wanted. Unless I saw something else that made me feel DETERMINED. Then it would just... override.”

“Uh-huh,” Henry confirmed, “The same thing happened to me once. I snuck into a place for... reasons,” Reasons being premeditated robbery, but Frisk didn’t need to know that, “and got so excited about succeeding that I accidentally SAVED over my previous file, so when I got caught, I couldn’t go back any further than the moment I got caught. It was awful at the time, but I think it worked out for the best,” Henry’s fingers rested on the badge that was decorating his lapel, another gift from Charles. The pilot actually had a matching one, once upon a time, but that was gone along with Charles’ mortal body. “It encouraged me to experiment more with my magic, and it was because I got caught that I met my best friend. Yeah,” Henry sighed, relaxing at just the memory, “I don’t think I’d change anything about that day if I could go back that far.”

“Huh?” Frisk tilted their head at him. “”Couldn’t you RESET? That takes you all the way back to the beginning, right?”

“A RESET is a master-level magical technique that sends you all the way back to your first SAVE.” Henry answered. He cursed himself for letting that bit of personal information slip, but kept his answers honest. The nerves caused his hands to stiffen as he signed. “I’ve never been able to pull it off, though I’ve only tried once or twice.”

“...” Frisk looked down at the ground, contemplating. It occurred to Henry that the reason they asked was probably because THEY could reset, which, with their bizarre levels of DETERMINATION, didn’t particularly surprise him. It was part of what unsettled him about them, Henry realized. With that much DETERMINATION, Frisk could probably send them all back as far as they wanted, and not even he would know about it. The thought made Henry vastly uncomfortable; now he definitely didn’t want them anywhere near Charles. Eventually Frisk looked back up at him, “You still haven’t told me how you learned about SAVES.”

You didn’t either, Henry almost said. Instead of blurting that out, Henry decided to tell them the truth, harmless as it was. “I made my first SAVE by accident,” He confessed.

Indeed, little baby Henry, who could not have been much older than Frisk, had been walking home from school after a particularly rough day. He hadn’t had any friends, and home had been just as lonely and twice as scary, when he’d seen a cat with her kittens. He’d watched them quietly for a moment, keeping a safe distance from the wild animals, and had ended up leaving half of his uneaten lunch at the end of the alleyway. He’d been halfway down the street when he looked back and saw the mother cat carrying the sandwich back to her babies, stopping for a moment and nodding at the child before scuttling off. Knowing he’d made a difference for that one animal had filled Henry with DETERMINATION. A light had flashed before him then. Henry hadn’t realized what it was until the next day, when he’d been pushed into the road by a bully and got hit by a truck. As he’d lied there dying, something yellow flashed in the corner of his eye, and Henry reached out for it, using all his strength to push through the pain and grasp the yellow light that simply said LOAD, and suddenly he was staring at that cat again.

A mythology book he’d checked out at the library explained the basics to Henry – namely souls and monsters, and their relationship to magic – but it took quite a bit of trial and error for Henry to truly understand how his powers worked.

Of course, Henry didn’t want to divulge all this information to Frisk, so he instead simply said, “I saw something that made me feel DETERMINED and figured the rest out from there.”

“That couldn’t have been fun.” Frisk mumbled under their breath.

“It wasn’t.” Henry confirmed. Another moment of silence fell over them. “Do you have a plan for tomorrow’s meeting?” He asked finally.

That caught Frisk off guard. They looked down at their feet. “No,” They confessed. “But I can SAVE, so I’ll be fine. That meeting’s not going to end until we’re free.”

Oh, god. Tomorrow’s going to be... interesting.

“Even if they’re all in your favour,” Henry warned, expectations properly tempered by years and years of political failures and disappointments, “You shouldn’t expect miracles. The best result may just be you guys getting moved and insulated in the city instead of in this camp.”

“I REFUSE to accept that.” Frisk looked over at him, their beady eyes narrowed. “I won’t rest until the monsters get what they deserve.”

“Hey,” Henry held up his hands in surrender. “I get you. I’m just warning you that you may have to compromise a little now to get a better result further down-”

“NO.” While not loud, the word was spoken in a strong, serious tone, one that caused Henry to jump reflexively. Frisk was looking up, and strong DETERMINATION, stronger than even before, was boring into Henry, bringing his earlier unease back full force. “I won’t REST until the monsters are given what they deserve.” Frisk suddenly turned to look back at Henry, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the look in their eyes. “And I won’t let anyone get in my way.”

With that, Frisk seemed to consider the conversation over, because they picked themselves up and went to walk back inside. “C’mon, let’s get back inside before Undyne comes looking for us. Trust me, she can be relentless.”

Henry waited for a moment for the pit in his stomach to settle before picking himself up, barely managing to keep from falling back down because of how _tired_ he was.

If he hadn’t trusted Frisk before, he sure as hell wasn’t about to now.

“Oh, there you two are!” Doctor Alphys greeted as they reentered the tent. “Where did you go?”

Henry shrugged noncommittally, following a reasonable distance behind Frisk. “We got bored, so we stepped outside to talk,” He answered, which was true enough.

The Doctor nodded, then turned back to her experiment. “Okay, we’re going to try this one more time. It’ll be the same spell as last time. Do you still want me to perform it on you first, General?”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” General Galeforce had taken a seat on one of the beds, very calmly watching the Doctor work her literal magic. Whatever anxiety he’d had about the procedure seemed to have dissipated in the time they’d been gone. “Go on ahead.”

With a nod, Doctor Alphys extended her claw out towards Charles. A faint green glow came from her palm, growing stronger and stronger until her hand was almost as bright as Charles. Henry stood next to where the General was sitting, watching with baited breath, while Frisk sat near the shark woman (Undyne? Maybe?) and held her hand as they watched the experiment. After a second of charging, the magic flowed from Doctor Alphys’ open palm and towards the container, passing smoothly through the glass and into Charles. As it flowed, the printer began spitting out another graph, the soft buzz of the healing magic drowned out by the loud screeching of the printer. Seconds passed, then a minute, then Alphys’ magic sputtered and died. The little dinosaur woman shook a little from the exertion, but stumbled over the printer and snatched up the results.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got this time...” She mumbled under his breath. Her eyes scanned over the paper, then sighed, “It’s no use. My magic isn’t even making a dent.”

“Maybe I could try this time?” Suggested Undyne.

Already Doctor Alphys was shaking her head. “No, that won’t help. A monster soul just can’t generate the level of power a Sleeping Soul needs to wake up – at least, not by themselves.”

“What about mom or Asgore?” Frisk asked.

“They’re certainly stronger,” Agreed the Doctor, though bringing them up made her squirm uncomfortably, “but I’m not sure even they’d be strong enough. At least not unless-” She suddenly stopped herself, going stiff.

The humans waited, but Doctor Alphys and Undyne only exchanged an awkward glance, neither willing to finish spilling the beans. General Galeforce prompted, “Unless...?”

Neither monster was willing to answer the unintentionally difficult question. It was Frisk, in the end, who naively asked, “Unless they absorb a human soul, right?”

“Unless they _what?_ ” Rupert asked with a scowl.

Having already dug the hole, Doctor Alphys nervously adjusted her glasses and reluctantly sealed her fate. “Well, um, you see, what makes monsters so unique is that they have he power to absorb the souls of other creatures. It changes the nature of their magic, and makes them more powerful.”

“I read about that,” Henry recalled, “in this book I have. The author seemed to think that was the reason we went to war in the first place.”

“...” Doctor Alphys refused to look any of the humans in the eye. “They weren’t wrong.”

“Bloody ‘ell!” Rupert hopped up, clutching his gun a little tighter. “Is ‘AT what ‘appened to all those kids we lost? Ya killed ‘em and stole their souls?!”

Henry honestly hadn’t believed that to be the case, finding it more likely the kids died of injuries during the fall, but then Alphys nervously began twiddling her thumbs, staring at the ground guilty and oh god, it was true, the monsters had been killing kids and stealing their souls, what the fuck-

“WE DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!” Undyne screeched, likely realizing it was undeniable. Her fist came down hard on a nearby table, cracking it in half and sending the equipment to the ground. While Doctor Alphys and Frisk scrambled to save the machinery, Undyne continued, “The Barrier could only be broken by a power equivalent to seven human souls! If there was any other way-”

“And ‘at justifies the murder of innocent little kids?” Rupert barked, pointing his weapon at Undyne.

General Galeforce immediately scolded him, “Mister Price, lower your weapon this instance! That’s an order!”

“They’re monsters!” Rupert barked back, disobeying his commanding officers orders to keep his gun trained on the shark woman, “Bloody evil child-killers! We should’ve wiped ‘em out when we found ‘em on the mountain!”

“Look, I know, it’s awful that those kids had to die!” Undyne screeched, “but you humans stole our future! We were just trying to survive! YOU ALL SENTENCED US TO A SLOW EXTINCTION BECAUSE YOU WERE _SCARED_!”

“U-Undyne...” Doctor Alphys tugged nervously at her girlfriend’s arm. She was brushed off.

Frisk jumped between them, arms outstretched. They pleaded, “No, we shouldn’t be fighting. This is all ancient history now!”

“Shut up, ankle-biter!” Rupert yelled at them. While he was still bitterly angry, he wasn’t far gone enough to point his weapon at a child, and adjusted it so a misfire wouldn’t accidentally hit Frisk. “Tell me, kid, ‘ow many times did these _monsters_ ,” He spoke that word like it was poison in his mouth, “try and kill you?”

Frisk didn’t flinch in the face of his venomous nerves, but they didn’t answer his question either. “They’ve changed,” The child told him firmly, “They struggled and they grew and they _changed_ , and you need to as well.”

“The _Ambassador_ ,” Galeforce interjected smoothly, his tone letting Henry know that this was definitely a rank pull on the General’s part, “is absolutely correct. What happened to those children is tragic, but I know you’ve also heard about the monsters who just fell over and died because there was no hope of a future for them. And I _know_ you’ve heard of humans doing worse things than what the monsters have done.”

Rupert’s hands started shaking, and Henry tensed up. “That doesn’t excuse what they’ve done. Betcha’ killed the lot of ‘em yourself, fishbait.” He stared daggers at Undyne, who was only getting more and more riled up with each word. Then, he made the mistake of bringing the Doctor into it. “And I bet yer girl only agreed to ‘elp Charles so she can steal ‘im. Just watch, the second we’re gone ‘at dragon’s gonna snatch ‘em right outta that glass and take ‘im for ‘erself!”

The obvious hairline temper of the tall fish woman snapped like a twig beneath Rupert’s words, and Undyne screeched incoherently before firing a _giant freakin’ spear_ directly at Rupert’s head. Frisk dove out of the way, as did Rupert and the General. Alphys shrieked. Then a terrible, horrible shattering sound cut through the fighting, one that made every fiber of Henry’s being grind to a slow, terrible halt. Somebody gasped. Time froze around them as he slowly drew his gaze over to where the capsule where Charles had been.

It had been knocked off the table, out of sight. Henry’s breath caught in his throat, and he could only think _no, no, no_ again and again and again. His body moved on its own, sliding over the top of the table and landing on top of the broken glass without even flinching. Charles was there, hovering slightly above the cold ground, and Henry snatched him up and held him close. His hands shook with the excess adrenaline.

How. Dare. They.

“WHAT THE _FUCK_ ,” Henry was vaguely aware of the Doctor covering Frisk’s ears, though he was hardly in a state to care, “IS YOUR PROBLEM?”

Rupert opened his mouth, likely to say something stupid and racist. Henry cut him off before he could spit it out.

“HOW DARE YOU PUT CHARLES IN DANGER! YOUR HANG UPS – _BOTH_ YOUR HANG UPS – ARE SO _FUCKING_ STUPID, THEY DON’T EVEN MATTER ANYMORE! YOU’RE BOTH FIGHTING A WAR THAT’S BEEN OVER FOR _LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF YEARS!_ ”

Apparently stupidity was not easily intimidated, because Rupert opened his dumb mouth again. “Hen-”

“DON’T TRY TO MAKE EXCUSES, YOU’RE _JUST_ AS GUILTY!” Henry screeched. A tight knot had formed in his stomach, and was beginning to travel up his throat. All around him were stunned by the volume and emotion the normally stoic Stickmin was pouring into his words. “YOUR BULLSHIT IS PUTTING EVERYONE AT RISK – FOR FUCK’S SAKE, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM, HE’S ALREADY DIED ONCE, HASN’T HE SUFFERED ENOUGH-” As he spoke, the knot rose and rose and rose until it was suffocating, and quite suddenly words began to fail him. Each attempt to force his voice out only raised Henry’s already high levels of frustration and anxiety.

The voices around him grew louder and louder, and Henry couldn’t pick them apart anymore. Without much in terms of CHOICE, he held Charles close and fled into the night.

Henry couldn’t tell how long he’d been running for, or how far he’d gone. He was still within the camp, but beyond that it was impossible to tell where they were. Without the energy to expend on getting any further, Henry all but collapsed behind one of the tents, taking short, shallow breaths. Henry’s entire body shook, and the ache in his chest had returned twicefold.

“Ch-” Henry tried to speak to the soul, but only managed to choke on his own goddamned voice. Tears were beginning to run down his cheeks – or had he been crying this whole time? – and Henry desperately wiped at his face with the hand not cradling his fallen friend. Once his eyes were mostly clear, Henry’s attention turned back to Charles.

Unhurt. Thankfully.

Henry leaned back, somewhat pacified by that knowledge, but still couldn’t stop the shaking of his limbs. That had been way too close for his liking. What if that spear had hit Charles? What if the glass had torn at the seams of his soul? What if Rupert had fired off his gun, and it ricocheted and hit the capsule Charles had been in? Sure, Henry could go back again, as many times as necessary, but he’d rather not have another memory of watching Charles die intruding on his daily thoughts.

(Burnt to ashes, torn to pieces, thrown from side to side, blood on the walls, chocking on the vacuum of space-)

Shuttering, Henry curled himself around Charles. Despite being somewhat afraid to earlier, he suddenly, desperately felt the need to touch him. Henry’s brought his shaking pointer finger to the surface of the green soul and gently, carefully, stroked a finger along the side.

The matter of Charles’ soul wasn’t physical, as one might expect of a magical construct based on the individual traits that made up a human. It wasn’t quite empty air, though, either. The construct of Charles’ soul held firm against his finger, but was also somehow soft to the touch, and sent jolts of gentle static up his spine, where they made his already cloudy head even muggier with hazy sensations that were mostly unfamiliar to him.

A sound rung in Henry’s ears, familiar but far off. A voice, he realized quite quickly, and after he understood that the voice became clearer at a much, much quicker rate.

“ _...need you to take a seat, son.”_ It was tough to make out just who the voice belonged to, but only one person Henry knew referred to anyone as ‘son’. It had to be the General.

“ _Of course, sir. What’s this about?”_ Henry took in a short gasp. There was no mistaking Charles’ voice. _“Is this about Parker again? I haven’t even talked to him this week! I swear he’s just jealous I get the good assignments.”_

“ _Charlie-”_ Interjected the General. There was something off about his voice, something gentler than the way he normally spoke. It reminded Henry quite uncomfortably of their encounter in the parking lot before he’d found Charles.

“ _No? Is it a_ _bout the Toppat mission then_ _? Oh! Are we taking Henry with us this time?”_ He sounded excited at the thought, and that put a tiny smile on Henry’s face. _“You said you’d let him join us for a test run mission at some point!”_

Huh. That was news to Henry.

“ _Charlie...”_ The General sighed, a long, tired sound that caused dread in Henry – dread, he’d begun to realize, that was not his own. _“I’m afraid Henry won’t be joining us for any missions.”_

“ _What?!”_ Anger, shock, confusion... these were what _Charles_ was feeling. And a touch of betrayal. It wasn’t fair! Henry was already having trouble finding a job, and Charles had worked so hard convincing the General to give this a go! (He had?). Charles barked out, _“That’s not fair! He’s worked so hard to prove that he’s changed, you can’t-”_

“ _Charlie, son, I’m so sorry.”_ Henry felt a gentle, warm pressure on his hands, like someone was holding them. _“Henry can’t join us because he’s dead.”_

The warmth was suddenly gone. Galeforce could have pulled back, but Henry had a feeling it had been Charles who’d yanked them away. _“What?!”_

“ _I received the report this morning. The Wall had taken custody of Henry – despite his pardon, mind you,”_ The General’s voice sounded genuinely angry, which surprised Henry. He hadn’t thought much about the Government's reaction to his arrest. A part of him had actually wondered if he’d been double-crossed, though thankfully that appeared not to be the case, _“and reported his death before I could even turn in the release papers. Apparently he’_ _d_ _‘_ _driven_ _a car over a cliff in an escape attempt’.”_ It was clear from his tone that the General didn’t quite believe that story. Ironically, it was actually pretty close to the truth.

The emotions Charles was feeling at that moment were frantic – panicked and wild, instead of the grief Henry would’ve suspected. _“We have to go find him, now!”_ Charles insisted. _“The Wall’s in Canada, right? He’s going to freeze out there!”_

“ _...Charlie, did you not hear me?”_ Asked Galeforce, incredulous.

“ _You don’t actually believe Henry’s dead, do you?”_ Charles was confident about that, not a shred of doubt in his mind. It was actually quite stunning. _“_ _He’s Henry. He’s not gonna go down that easy.”_

Well, he goes down that easy quite often, but Charles hadn’t known that.

“ _If I get out there now, I might be able to track him down before the Wall does.”_ Henry couldn’t see the scene, but could feel how antsy Charles was, how eager he was to get up in the air. _“I’ll be back before the Toppat raid, don’t worry-”_

“ _I’m afraid I’m going to have to deny that request, son.”_ All of Charles’ emotions in that moment ground to a sudden halt, resulting in what Henry could only describe as an emotional _WHAT_. _“I know you’re fond of Henry, but_ _Mister Petrov runs one of the most brutal penitentiaries I’ve ever seen, and he’s nothing if not thorough. If he says Henry’s dead, then Henry-”_

“ _Obviously outsmarted him.”_ There was frustration brewing in Charles, annoyance – but again, no doubt. _“He’s Henry Stickmin. Some grumpy old man who thinks he’s in charge isn’t going to tell him what to do!”_ A brief pause. _“No offense.”_

Henry snorted out a laugh mixed with a sob. Oh, Charles. Never change.

“ _...even so, son, I need you focused on the Toppats right now. Once they’re taken care of, I’ll grant you leave to look for Henry.”_ Galeforce said solemnly. Henry had a feeling the General meant ‘Henry’s body’, but whatever.

Silence passed between them as Charles contemplated. He warred with himself, wondering what to do, whether it was worth deserting, if they would manage to stop the Toppats without him, if Henry could survive if he stayed... then, with a mumbled, _“Sorry, Henry,”_ Charles responded, _“Yes, sir. Once the Toppats are done with, I’ll be requesting leave immediately.”_

“ _I’ll get the paperwork started for you.”_ The General told Charles gently.

There was a heartbeat of silence, then somebody else’s voice came through. A person Henry only recognized because of their accent. _“Oi, Charles. I, uh, ‘eard about ‘enry. Sorry, man.”_

“ _Yeah, it sucks.”_ Charles agreed. His emotions were flippant, noncommittal. He clearly didn’t want to be having this conversation. _“But once we deal with the Toppats, I’ll take a detour out to Canada to bring him home. The General promised he’d start shit up for the Wall once things have calmed down here, so all I have to worry about is finding him.”_ Charles felt an anxiety that Henry was all too familiar with at that moment, and while it pained the ex-thief to think of Charles going through this pain, it was also... relieving, in a way? To know that Charles had cared about Henry as strongly as Henry cared about Charles. _“I hope he’ll be okay. He was raised in New Mexico, so he’s probably having a hell of a time with that cold.”_

Oh, Charles had _no_ idea.

“ _Uh...”_ Rupert sounded just as uncomfortable talking to Charles about Henry as he had attempting to talk to Henry about Charles. _“You, uh, you’re talkin’ ‘bout ‘im like ‘e’s still...”_

“ _Because he IS still alive.”_ Charles almost sounded as annoyed as he felt. _“Why is everyone so sure he got himself killed? He’s Henry!”_

Rupert sighed deeply, _“I understand wantin’ to believe e’s okay. You wouldn’t believe ‘ow many people ‘ave told me to give up on Dave. But what makes you so sure ‘e’s still alive? ‘ow do you know?”_

Instead of the expected irritation, Charles was overcome with sympathy. He was much more empathetic than Henry, and through Charles’ soul Henry realized what Rupert was really asking for: a reason to believe that his own missing person, that prison guard whose screw up allowed Henry to walk free, was going to be alright.

“ _Because,”_ Charles told him, light and enthusiastic and truthful with every word, _“He promised me. He said he’d stick around to be my friend, and I...”_

“ _ **I trust him.”**_

Henry yanked his hand away from Charles’ soul like it was on fire.

Trust. Charles had spoken nothing but the truth, and he said he trusted Henry.

The shaking of his hands got worse. Henry lifted Charles up to look at that light, that bright light that was full of too much KINDNESS, too much hope, too much trust for a crooked bastard like Henry. He’d trusted Henry, and Henry had let him die. Again and again and again and again and it wouldn’t stop, the tears wouldn’t stop coming and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and his lungs wouldn’t take in air and his throat wouldn’t push out the apologies that he NEEDED to give, that Charles DESERVED after how Henry had betrayed him, how could he, how _could_ you, traitor, traitor, traitor-

“Henry....” The voice was so soft Henry almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own quickened breath. Without thought he flinched away from the voice, pulling Charles close so he could shield the precious thing with his worthless flesh.

Whoever it was that intruded on his moment approached slowly, with clearly audible footsteps. They kept a respectable distance before pausing and, presumably, taking a seat.

“Son, it’s me.” The voice said again and oh, it was the General, another person who had wrongfully believed in him. Another person whose expectations Henry had disappointed. “Henry, it’s okay... I’m going to sit right here, okay? Can you tell me what’s happening?”

Henry peered up from where he’d been huddling in on himself. The General’s face was gentle and kind, far kinder than Henry deserved. It was for Charles, likely- anybody with a brain knew Henry didn’t deserve that kind of kindness. He tried to give the man an apology for failing his son, for causing this whole mess in the first place, for just being a general burden, but all he could force out of his mouth were desperate gasps. With words continuing to fail him, all Henry could do was sign, over and over again, “SORRY. SORRY. SORRY. SORRY.”

It wasn’t clear if the General understood his shaking hands, but he definitely understood what Henry was trying to get across. He outstretched an arm, then paused it, and asked. “Henry. Is it okay if I touch you?”

At any other time Henry would’ve abhorred the thought of stealing comfort from anybody, especially Charles’ grieving dad who’d already given him way too many chances. But at the moment, suddenly all Henry wanted was the warmth of another human. Henry lurched forward towards the older man with a choked sob, wrapping the arm that wasn’t holding Charles around him. After a moment of stunned silence, Galeforce gently maneuvered Charles out of the way with one hand and held Henry tight with the other, letting Henry cry messily into his once clean uniform.

When there were no more tears left to shed in Henry, he hiccuped and looked up at Galeforce’s face. The old man smiled, gave Henry a reassuring squeeze, and asked, “Do you feel any better?”

He still didn’t feel up to talking quite yet, but Henry signed to the General, “YES. THANKS,” keeping his words simple, as past timelines told him that the General’s ASL was rusty.

“It’s no trouble, son.” Galeforce reassured him. His words were much quieter than Henry was used to hearing from him.

They sat in silence for quite some time. As he calmed, Henry began noticing little things about the General’s behavior; how he was careful to make little noise, how he only touched Henry in places where Henry was touching him, how he made sure Charles was always visible to Henry, despite how awkwardly he had to bend to do so. The little thoughtful gestures made Henry smile despite himself.

Maybe... he’d been a little too cold to Galeforce.

In return for the kindness, when Henry found his voice again he decided to give Galeforce the full truth. It was the least he deserved.

“I’m sorry I let Charles die.” He whispered.

Galeforce shifted to look more directly at Henry. “Son, you didn’t-”

“I have the power to go back in time.” Henry confessed. Whatever words of reassurance Galeforce had for him vanished into the ether, so Henry continued. “Humans can do magic, like the monsters can. It doesn’t come as naturally to us as it does to them, but if you’re really lucky, you can figure it out by yourself. I figured out how to go back to certain points in time: points I chose.” Noticing his hand was shaking again, Henry paused for a brief moment to breath before pressing forward. “That’s how I knew what Charles’ soul was. I found some stuff on souls while learning about my magic.”

Henry peered up at Galeforce, attempting to get a read on him. When their eyes met, Galeforce nodded at Henry to continue.

So Henry did. “I can go back to two points in time right now: just before I got to the camp with Charles, and just before Charles and I met up at that bar in Canada. I could go back to that moment at any time. But... I’m so _tired_.” It was the first time Henry had admitted that to even himself, but it was truth. “I can’t even remember how many times I relived that day, over and over and _over_ again.” Henry’s shaking hands found his hair and pulled, trying to ground himself in any way he could. “And nothing worked. I couldn’t talk him out of it, I couldn’t take his place-” He’d tried, but Charles was stronger and faster than Henry, and it had always ended up with Henry in that escape pod, “No matter what I tried he just. Kept. Dying. And I was so, so desperate for anything that would give me the upper hand.

“I wasn’t explicitly looking for Charles’ soul when I went to investigate the Toppat Station. I was just looking for anything that would give me an upper hand in the next timeline, and when I found Charles’ soul...” Another pause for Henry to breath. “I realized that maybe there was another way to save him. But... maybe it’s not possible. Maybe I should just go back again... I just want to save him so badly. I don’t think I’m strong enough to stop him if I go back again. I-I’m sorry-”

The apology was cut off by another hug from Galeforce, much firmer than the one he’d given earlier. With soft words, the General told him, “Oh, son, I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all that. I can’t imagine how awful that must be.”

If Henry had the energy, he might’ve started crying again. As it was, he sniffled weakly and leaned into the old man’s touch.

“You’ve done so much for Charlie. I can’t thank you enough.” Galeforce whispered. His coarse hands began stroking Henry’s hair, and Henry was reminded of shows he’d seen as a child where parents would hold their children and comfort them with words and touch – an idea so far divorced from Henry’s reality that he’d never even considered that someone would do that for him. “You’ve been running yourself ragged, son. Get some sleep. I’ll take care of Charlie until you're feeling better, okay? You’re not as alone as you think you are.”

The idea of not being alone was still something of a novelty to the ex-convict, but Henry didn’t protest. With the comforting glow of KINDNESS from Charles and Galeforce’s warm hands brushing the stress out of his hair, Henry drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Mercifully, he had no dreams that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You fools. You thought Dadforce merely referred to Galeforce and Charles. No. Galeforce is EVERYBODY'S DAD!
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the long wait between this and the last update. I got... distracted. It was Cyberchase week on tumblr, so I was focusing on that. In spite of that, I think this is the best chapter so far. Tell me what you think.
> 
> Next Chapter is the Toppats again, and this one should be interesting...


	8. Broken Heart Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll ready to find out what's wrong with Regi-boy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a pretty big exposition dump near the end of the chapter. I apologize, but it's fairly important information. For... later.

According to the ancient legends, no one who climbed Mount Ebott had ever returned.

In spite of this, Mount Ebott was actually a quite lovely, peaceful place. A thick forest surrounded the mountain, broken up only by a few sprawling meadows of flowers and a number of animal trails. If one were a skilled botanist, they might have noticed, in between the sturdy oaks and crawling ivy, a number of plants that were once thought extinct flourishing without a care in the world. A number of animals roamed the woodlands, and when they took note of the human creatures trespassing through their sanctuary, they did not run and hide as their counterparts might. They merely observed from a safe distance, cautious but having no reason to distrust the stranger animals who walked on two legs. Long untouched by the taint of human society, the wild lands of Ebott would be considered by many to be quite relaxing, with the music of the leaves being rustled by the wind and the warm gradient of the sunset back-dropping the luscious setting.

The peacefulness of the mountain, however, only seemed to add stress on to Sven’s already over-encumbered shoulders. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that they were going to be ambushed at every corner; if not by the government they were trying very hard to avoid, then by monsters or mountain lions or whatever deadly things were behind the legends in Ebott City. He made sure to stay ahead of Reginald- the Chief and the Right Hand, mostly to protect the two from any that would do them harm, but also to avoid looking at the Chief. Every time he caught sight of their limp leader he felt sick to his stomach. Every glance from those stony eyes, absent of the intelligent light that so characterized their CEO, caused his heavy heart to jolt in momentary panic because, goddamn, he _looks_ dead. He _feels_ dead. ~~He can’t be dead please don’t let him be dead-~~

What made it worse still was how the Right Hand spoke to their chief in this gentle, intimate tone. Sven tried not to listen in, but would sometimes catch snippets of his hushed whispering: stories of the past, observations of the present; once, and only once, an uncomfortably emotional plea that caused Sven to hasten his pace so he wouldn’t be able to hear the words he knew were only meant for a lover’s ear. They hadn’t spoken directly since the incident earlier.

Burt wasn’t holding up much better, to be fair. In any other awkward silence, Burt would fill the void with his monotone ramblings, or at least joke about it with Sven. But Mount Ebott was putting even him on edge, and he stayed glued to Sven’s side, eyes and ears perked up as he vigilantly watched over his superiors, holding his own firearm with a little too much tension. Walking side by side was something they’d done many times since becoming Chief and Right Hand, but this time Burt walked with a purpose. Looking at his face reminded Sven of better times, of how things were before that fateful airship raid. It filled Sven with strength; he was a Toppat, a thief who prided himself on his intellect and his community. So long as Sven remembered that, he knew he’d be fine.

One might expect that the supposed prison for an entire population of people would be hard to get into, but by the time they even attempted to enter the mountain the trio of criminals had managed to find three entrances. The first one the Right Hand vetoed, on account of it being too dangerous a climb to attempt with the Chief. The second cavern entrance had large paw prints around the outside, so they climbed past it with a silent agreement to only come back if there was no other option. The cave they decided to enter was about mid-way up the mountain; a wide cavern with a slope gentle enough that the Right Hand Man deemed it safe.

As they descended, Sven swallowed past his anxieties to ask Burt, “Do you mind going into my bag and grabbing a torch?”

Burt quirked a brow at him. There was still tension, but he at least felt well enough to quip back, “You packed literal torches? Damn, we’re really going medieval with this little spelunking adventure, aren’t we?”

“A torch is just a flashlight, you ignorant cretin,” The Right Hand Man scowled at Burt with an expression like he’d just sucked a lemon.

The bickering was refreshingly familiar. Sven could almost imagine Reginald- the Chief poking fun at the Right Hand in retaliation, perhaps bringing up an embarrassing memory from their younger years or teasing him in French, a language their Second-In-Command didn’t speak. It was actually a rather common occurrence back on the airship for Reginald to lay thick, sultry compliments and sweet nothings in French onto his beloved Right Hand and revel in the resulting confusion. Fluent in French himself, Sven had nearly laughed himself hoarse the first time he heard it happen.

Sven took a deep breath, discreetly wiped at his burning eyes, and pressed onward. If Burt or the Right Hand Man noticed, they didn’t comment.

For some time after entering the caverns, Sven started doubting his hypothesis that this was where the monsters had been sealed. They just felt like normal caves; perhaps a bit mossier than normal, but this entire mountain was crawling with plant-life. Despite the evidence, Sven began to worry that maybe he’d dragged his sick chief into this damp, germ-infested cave system for nothing.

Luckily for him, it wasn’t terribly long before his worries became unfounded.

The cave tunnel they were traveling through opened up into a large hollow pocket in the Mountain, where there sat a great city. The buildings were all carved from white stones, and they towered far above the humans’ heads.

“Look at this place!” Sven gasped. “It’s incredible!” He ran up to one of the buildings, feeling along the side of the walls. It was made from the same material as the caves; it must have been, there was no where for them to go to get materials. But the stone was so smooth under his fingers, like polished marble. “How do you think they pulled this off? Magic maybe? It would take forever to smooth rock down like this otherwise, it must have been! The building’s look like they were carved out of the ground, but were they carved out from the mountain? Or did they use magic to raise the ground up to be carved out?” Sven gasped as he ran his fingers across a window. “And how do you think they made glass? Burt said this was a volcanic area, but was there sand inside the mountain they could use? Or did they finely grind the rocks to make sand? Oh, this is fascinating, I wish I brought my camera!”

When he turned to his fellow Toppats, Sven saw that Burt was smiling indulgently at his rambling, but the Right Hand Man merely rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.” Agreed the Right Hand absently. “Architecture. Riveting. Now ‘ow are we gonna find whot we need to ‘elp Reg?”

“Um, right.” Silently the Swed cursed himself for getting distracted. “Uh, let me climb on top of this building. I’ll see if I can find a library or something where we could get information.”

The suggestion had his boss nod in satisfaction, but now it was Burt who was discontent. As Sven gripped the window to begin scaling the building, he was suddenly pulled down by a firm grip on the back of his vest.

“I’ll climb up.” Burt told him sternly. “You stay down here where it’s safe.”

“Wha-?” Questioned Sven, who could only watch as Burt attempted to scale the building. Keyword being attempt, because it was obvious his strength wasn’t enough to hoist his physical mass much farther than the first window. When his arms started quivering, Sven stopped the pathetic show before his poor friend could embarrass himself further. “Burt, seriously, it’s fine. Let me handle it, I actually know how to climb stuff.”

“Uh, I grew up on a mountain,” Burt retorted with a little more sass than strictly necessary. “I can climb shit.”

“You’ve NEVER set foot on this mountain!” Sven reminded him. Frustrated, he shoved the other man away from himself and turned to climb, only to feel his Toppat be violently yanked down over his eyes. Instinct had Sven violently push his elbow into his attacker’s stomach- though with Burt’s height, it ended up squarely in his rib cage.

Suddenly Sven was yanked up by his collar. Burt made a chocking noise as he was also hoisted up. Both men now had to endure the shame of looking their commander directly in his eyes, squinted at both of them with obvious annoyance. The sight of it made Sven’s heart sink; as if the man didn’t already think lowly of him, after what Sven had done to his husband. Now the poor Right Hand Man could add ‘childish’ to the list of negative qualities he associated with the Chief’s top pupil.

“Enough.” He said, firm and flat. The Right Man then dropped both of them. Sven landed on his feet, but Burt stumbled and fell on his butt. “ _I’ll_ climb the building. You two idjit’s keep an eye on Reg.”

In the end letting the Right Hand Man climb the building was probably the right call, because he scaled the rock structure much quicker than either of them could. Once the oldest of them was out of earshot, Sven turned to Burt, the man who was supposed to be his best friend, and sharply whispered, “What the heck was that?!”

“I’m your right hand man,” Burt crossed his arms, staring down at the ground. “I’m not gonna let you risk your life pointlessly.”

Sven inhaled, and through gritted teeth told him, “It’s not pointless,” because it would help them track down help for their dear chief, “and it’s not a risk!” because god damn it, he scaled the Harpist’s Castle in Scandinavia to get his hands on some old metal helmet that was somehow worth two point two million dollars. He could climb a three-story building! “You made me look like an idiot in front of the Right Hand Man! How am I supposed to make up for what I did like this?!”

“Uh, by _not_ getting yourself killed?” Burt scowled. “Look, I get it. I know how you feel. But what happened isn’t your fault. I’m not gonna let you get yourself hurt over it.” Burt finally looked up at him. “You can’t fix your mistakes if your dead.”

Sven was having difficulty thinking of a response to him that wouldn’t spark another argument, but was saved by the Right Hand calling down, “OI!” And using one of the building’s decorate pillars to slide back down to them. “There’s an important lookin’ building near the west wall. Seems like some sorta castle. We should start by checkin’ there. Even if we don’t find anything on Reg’s condition, we should at least find some sorta map.”

“Roger,” Burt confirmed, then began walking in the direction Sven assumed was west without so much as looking back. This wasn’t atypical; Burt tended to shut things out when he was genuinely upset. It was just kind of how he was. They could talk about it later.

As they headed west, Sven noticed how oddly empty the city streets were. The place was huge, but there were no monsters in sight. Could they have all really gone to the surface? How could the amount of people it would take to populate this city be reliable herded out of these caves before anybody noticed?

That was when he heard it; something rustling in the distance. Sven immediately hopped between the chiefs and the noise, drawing his pistol and disengaging the safety.

“Wot is it?” The Right Hand Man questioned testily.

“I heard something,” Sven pointed his pistol around, but couldn’t find the source of the noise. Ahead, he could hear Burt turning around and running back. With no active threats to aim at, Sven reluctantly lowered his weapon, but still kept his guarded stance. “I don’t think we’re alone down here.”

“Sure you’re not hearing things?” Burt asked as he leaned against the wall. “Empty places like this mess with people’s heads.”

It was apparent the Right Hand Man wasn’t sure what to think. Eventually he exhaled deeply and told the two, “Keep movin’, but keep yer guard up. Burt, keep on point. Sven, bring up the rear. I want Reg covered from all sides.” Sven nodded, and reengaged the safety on his pistol before moving on.

They kept moving in this formation. When Sven closed his eyes to focus on his hearing, he became more certain that there was someone else down here. A monster who didn’t want to go up, maybe?

It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t _touch_ the chiefs. Not as long as Sven had something to say about it.

The ‘castle’ that their commanding officer mentioned only barely qualified as such. It was more like an average, cozy house with a slightly more ornate design than the rest of the city. The inside was very plain for a castle as well. Directly to the left of the entrance was a living area, and the Right Hand took the opportunity to direct Reginald to rest in the large armchair by the fireplace. Sven considered seeing if he could light it for a moment, but decided they had more important things to worry about.

“A’right, let’s split up, then,” The Right Hand began heading over to the opposite end of the house. “You two search this room, I’ll scope out the rest o’ the place.”

“Roger that.” Sven confirmed. There was a single bookcase in the room, so he began to shuffle through it. “Burt, come on, help me search.”

“...man, he’s really out of it.”

Sven tore his attention away from the shelf to see Burt standing over Reginald, looking him directly in his cold, dead eyes. Just the thought of doing that sent a shiver down Sven’s back, but he got up to join Burt at his side anyways. The communications expert waved a hand in front of his face – no response. Snapped fingers – no response. A clap, dangerously close to his nose – no response.

Sven laid a hand on Burt’s shoulder. “...are you okay?”

“I guess.” Burt shrugged. “...sorry about earlier. I know you’ve done more dangerous stuff than that. So much shit has happened... I’m just worried about you.”

Sven placed a hand on Burt’s shoulder, keeping the touch gentle. “I don’t just want to fix the chief.” He confessed. “I want earn their forgiveness, too. I want to prove I still belong with the Toppats. I want everything to go back to normal again.”

Burt’s hand came up to gently rest on Sven’s, warm and soft. “Even if it doesn’t, we’ll figure something out.” Sven dared to look back, and the smile Burt gave him was contagious enough for Sven to smile too. “We always do.”

“Yeah...”

A comfortable silence went on for just a few moments. Then Sven heard it. A subtle creaking and groaning, and it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

“Shoot.” The gun was between them and the kitchen in a heartbeat, safety still on just in case. “Did you hear that?”

“Uhh...” Burt looked between him and the kitchen. “No...?”

“There’s someone else in the house. We need to get the chief to safety.” Nerves be damned, Sven reached out and pulled their chief out of the chair. The poor man stumbled, but with Sven’s help he was somehow able to keep upright. “I’m taking Chief Reginald downstairs where its safer. You get the Right Hand Man and meet us down here.”

Burt nodded, still looking uncertain. Sven pulled the Chief behind him and quickly descended the stairwell, dragging him through the gray stone hallway and into a glorious golden hall. At any other time he might have stopped and gawked, but now wasn’t the time for that. Sven and the Chief passed through quickly and rushed passed a doorway down another flight of stairs, into a chamber filled with boxes. One was marked with a purple heart, and when Sven leaned closer to examine it, he saw the name ‘Max’ written on it.

“Nope.” He decided, and basically dragged Reginald back up the staircase, muttering as he climbed. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”

At the top of the stairwell he ran into Burt and the Right Hand Man. Without even a greeting the Right Hand Man pushed past Sven to check on Reginald. Burt and him watched before Burt told him what was going on.

“We checked the outside of the kitchen. And basically everywhere else. We couldn’t find anything.” Then Burt squinted up at him. “Are... are you okay?”

“Fine! Just fine!” Sven snapped back, a little too quickly, and walked past him into the wide open door he’d walked past before. Now that the others were here, he was a little more at ease and took the time to read the sign he’d walked past earlier.

_Throne Room_

Okay. It was at least worth checking out.

At Sven’s suggestion they entered. Cracks in the cavern ceiling let moonlight pour out over the room, illuminating the beautiful field of flowers before them. Golden petals spread across the room, breaking the gold and red tiles and giving the entire room the smell of springtime. A single chair stood in the center of the room: the throne, presumably. A white sheet covered what was presumably another chair in the background.

“We shouldn’t split up again until we know for sure what was following us.” Sven told both of them. He walked further into the room. “Let’s investigate this area, then head back up to the castle-”

All of a sudden something tangled around Sven’s ankle, harshly and suddenly enough that he couldn’t correct himself as he toppled onto the ground. Fortunately the flowers and weeds made the ground soft, so it didn’t hurt when he fell. All it did was give him a reason to grumble with annoyance.

And when Sven looked up, he found himself face to face with a smiling flower.

What.

“Howdy!” The flower greeted, as if this entire situation wasn’t bizarre _enough_. “I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!”

There weren’t _words_ for this situation. All Sven could do was stare dumbly at the talking freaking plant in front of him.

“It seems you folks have gotten yourselves a little lost!” It continued cheerfully. “Well, don’t you worry! Your new pal Flowey will make sure you get out of here nice and quick-like! No need to thank me!”

They all stared at the flower.

“Sir?” Burt asked. “Am I high?”

The Right Hand only gave him a quick, bewildered glance before returning his attention to Flowey.

“If you exit through there,” Flowey gestured with its entire body – because it didn’t have hands, because it was a flower, what the _hell_ – towards a doorway in the back of the room, near the shrouded throne, “You’ll pass where the Barrier spell that kept us all in the Underground was cast. That will take you all directly up to the surface!”

“Err...” Sven shortly glanced back to his equally confused colleagues (minus the Chief, who was leaning heavily on the Right Hand Man’s shoulder), then looked back down at the wide grin of the flower – wait, does it have teeth? Why does it have _teeth?_ “Thank you, but we’re not heading up to the surface just yet.”

Flowey was still smiling, but something on its face changed; a slight crack that showed a hint of agitation on its otherwise jolly expression. “Oh? You’re not? Do you want to be stuck in the Underground, like so many before you?” Then its smile got _wider_ , outgrowing its face and curling sinisterly. “Don’t you know that you go mad down here in the dark?”

Sven did the logical thing and got the hell away from that abomination. Burt stepped between them and pulled his gun on the flower, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Oi, Flower Boy!”

The lot of them turned towards the Right Hand Man. He was holding his husband close to him, then did something completely counter-intuitive and brought the injured Chief _closer_ to the freaky flower.

“Ye obviously want us gone,” Said the man, staring the flower dead in its eyes, “So I’ll cut ya a deal. Ye ‘elp us find out wot’s wrong wit’ our Chief ‘ere, and we’ll git lost. Soun’ good?”

Neither of their expressions wavered. You could cut the tension between them with a toy knife.

“...Alright, fine.” The Flower pulled itself down into the ground and reemerged closer to the chiefs. So _that’s_ what he’d been hearing! “Hmm... and what put him into this state?”

“A... magic crystal exploded.” Sven explained simply.

The flower turned and gave him a strange look, like Sven had just suggested it get up and walk or something. “Uh, what?”

Sven repeated himself. “A magical crystal exploded, and he was caught in it.” Sven scratched the back of his neck, pushing down the reflexive _because of me_ that bubbled inside of him.

“Yeah, no, that’s not how magic works. A magic crystal would, like, just sparkle or something. It shouldn’t be able to explode. Unless... did this crystal let you _perform_ magic?”

“It... let me go back in time.” Sven told it.

“Okay, that would make it a _DETERMINATION_ Crystal. Ugh, you humans, always thinking you can cheat the system. If your soul doesn’t have the determination to perform time magic, you shouldn’t perform time magic!” The flower scowled. “But noooo! You had to distill traits and put them in gems! So irresponsible! Ugh, anyway, if that was the cause of the problem, then it might have done something to his soul. Let me take a look.”

The flower approached Reginald slowly, watched with sharp eyes by every human in the room. With a soft ‘boop’, it tapped Reginald on the chest and sat back to watch.

“Uhhh...” Burt pointed at the little gray bits flaking off of their Chief’s soul. “I take it that’s bad?”

“HOLY SHIT!” Flowey backed away, and with nothing to interact with the blue light slowly disappeared. “OH MY GOD, HOW THE HELL IS THIS GUY NOT DEAD?! WHAT THE FUCK-?! OKAY, OKAY, DON’T PANIC, NOBODY PANIC!”

“You’re panicking!” Burt yelled back. The Right Hand held his husband tighter, staring at the flower with an unreadable expression. Sven stared at the spot on the chief’s chest where the illumination had been visible. The dull gray light that came off of it had made him feel sick to his stomach. That was supposed to be his soul; the culmination of his very being. And it was in tatters, turned to an ashy gray and falling apart because of what _he’d_ done. Sven’s arms shook, but there wasn’t time to think it through.

“Okay, okay, I, uh... THE LAB!” Flowey the Flower burrowed into the ground, and reappeared near the doorway. “Okay, there’s no time to explain what’s going on, but if you want that guy to live you NEED to follow me! Hurry up!” And with that, the Flower burrowed again, appearing on the opposite side of the doorway.

For a moment, nobody moved.

“Do we trust him?” Burt asked, openly apprehensive.

“Do we ‘ave a choice?” The Right Hand Man retorted. That was all that was said before they followed behind Flowey, and if Burt disengaged the safety on his gun, Sven certainly wouldn’t go telling anyone.

They followed Flowey through the empty city until they reached an elevator.

“Okay! Okay!” The little thing peered down the elevator shaft. The thing was covered with giant green vines. “I, uh, forgot I broke this. No problem! We’ll just need to propel down!”

Burt gave him an odd look. “That seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Well, we don’t have a choice!” The flower snapped back at him. It narrowed its beady little eyes at Burt, who, since leaving the castle, had made absolutely certain to stand between the flower and Sven. “It’s not like there’s stairs we can use!”

Burt’s frown deepened. The Right Hand Man kept silent behind the lot of them; at this point, he’d started just carrying the chief in his arms, as it was faster than trying to walk them both around. Sven silently pointed from behind his friend to the doorway several meters away clearly labeled ‘Stairs’.

“Oh.” Flowey blinked, then squinted at the stairwell. “How have I never noticed that...? Well, whatever. Just head down to the lab. I’ll see you down there.”

Flowey vanished underneath the ground. With no other options, the group of humans began carefully descending the stairwell. It went down and down, further into the darkness. The only light they had was Sven’s torch.

“...when the Witch was telling me about magic,” Sven spoke as he climbed, partially to ward off the damning silence, but mostly because it seemed like important information, “she told me about the soul. It’s what let’s humans do magic, but there’s more to it that I didn’t quite understand. She called it ‘The True Form of a Human’. I have _no_ clue what she meant by that, but if the Chief’s soul is in that state...”

“...no wonder he’s braindead.” Burt mumbled.

“Humph. Keep moving.” Their boss instructed them curtly. He was trying to keep up appearances, maybe for their leader’s sake, but something had changed in him since they saw the Chief’s soul. He carried himself stiffer, and something haunted darkened his eyes. His hands were tight around the limp form of Chief Reginald, and Sven could have sworn he saw them shaking.

It would be hard to blame the man for his sudden unease. The blue-green light put off by one-half of the soul had been calming, but the gray side had been unsettling. It was hard to put into words just how _wrong_ it had felt; like being in the presence of a person who was terminally ill. There was a looming sense of dread and anxiety that hung over all their heads.

God, he hoped this flower’s plan worked.

At the bottom of the staircase they stepped into a darkened corridor. Dark teal tiles covered the floor, and the only light in the entire hallway came from monitors that were set up on the walls. With Burt taking point, weapon drawn, they carefully strolled through the laboratory. The entire place had an eerie, sterile feeling to it. It reminded Sven of a creepy abandoned hospital he’d had to take refuge in once.

Flowey was waiting for them at the base of what appeared to be an elevator. “Good, you’re here!” It burrowed again and reappeared underneath some sort of machine. It was large and purple and added quite nicely to the ominous atmosphere of the lab. “Okay, so here’s the sitch: your friend’s soul is unraveling due to a DETERMINATION deficiency. He needs an emergency infusion of DT like, right now, but I obviously don’t have any on hand. So we’ll have to take it from one of you.”

“Excuse me, you what?” Burt looked uncomfortable by the suggestion, and after his own limited interactions with DETERMINATION, Sven couldn’t exactly blame him.

“All humans need a baseline level of DETERMINATION, or their souls can’t hold themselves together. It’s like, the glue of the SOUL. That’s why he’s falling apart. So, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna check to see which of you has the most DT, okay?” Without waiting for a response, Flowey suddenly flew at them, way too quickly. With a ‘boop’, it touched each of them, drawing out the glowing hearts from their chests.

First Burt’s: “Hum, PERSEVERANCE, okay...”

Then Sven’s: “INTEGRITY, alright, alright...”

Then, at last, the Right Hand Man’s: “AH! YES! IT’S RED!”

The Flower backed off, towards the machine. It seemed unusually giddy. “Alright, giant red-headed human! Your primary soul trait is DETERMINATION. That means you have the most DT out of everybody here! It’d be easiest – and safest – to take it from you. All you need to do is put your soul in the giant scary machine and let me poke it! Simple enough, right?”

They all stared at the flower.

“Uh, I don’t know about this.” Burt spoke up. “You want us to just put one of our _souls_ into some unknown contraption and let it kill us?”

Flowey squinted up at him.

“How do we know this would even work?” Continued the skeptical man. The entire time his eyes never Flowey. “For all we know, this could be some plot for you to kill us and eat us!”

“...” The flower huffed, more annoyed than anything else. “I’m a _flower_. I can’t eat anything. Listen, if you wanna let your pal over there die a slow, miserable death, then go right ahead. No skin off my metaphorical nose.”

“I’ll do it.”

The lot of them turned back towards the Right Hand Man. He gently set his husband down, leaning him against the back wall, and kissed his forehead before walking back to Flowey. Burt attempted to grab his arm, to hold him back and maybe talk him out of it, but was brushed off easily by the larger man.

“Well, good.” Flowey exhaled loudly. “At least ONE of you has a brain. Alright, just summon your soul – you remember how I did it? Yeah, just do that.” After a moment of hesitation, the Right Hand Man carefully tapped his own chest and, like before with Flowey, the glowing red heart appeared. Strength radiated from it, and when Sven looked at it he found himself feeling stronger as well. Like he could save the Chief; like he could earn their forgiveness. Like a happy ending wasn’t out of reach. A part of him knew that this light held the same power as the terrible explosion back at the prison, but this felt different. Calmer. More stable.

This, Sven realized, was the true nature of DETERMINATION. The power to change the world.

“Alright, now place it in the compartment on the DT Extraction machine. I’ll operate the controls.” Flowey moved over to a panel discreetly hidden on the side of the machine. The Right Hand Man put his glowing red soul inside of the machine. Once it was locked in, the flower gave him a firm nod. “Okay, I’ll turn it on now. You’ll feel a slight pinch, but it shouldn’t hurt for any longer than that. If it does, LET ME KNOW. I cannot stress that enough, okay?”

With the Right Hand Man’s consenting nod, Flowey flipped a switch on the machine and it started up. The noise it made was horrendous, a loud and ominous humming that could best be compared to a lion’s roar. The Right Hand Man grunted and gripped at his chest.

And then it was over. The sounds whirled to a halt. The machine spit out some sort of red vial. The Right Hand’s soul was released and flew back to him within seconds. Without waiting the flower gripped the vial and burrowed underground again, reappearing in front of Reginald. The soul of their boss was exposed again, still slowly dissolving into gray dust. Flowey hummed at it and slowly, carefully, pricked the healthily glowing blue-green side of the soul with the needle at one end of the vial. The red liquid slowly drained out, and as it entered the blue-green glowing construct it was absorbed. The healthier side glowed a little bright, and the gray side stopped breaking apart. For the moment, their poor chief was stable.

Flowey sighed with relief. It then turned back to the Right Hand Man and asked, “Are you feeling alright? Any residual aches or pains?”

“No.” The Right Hand told them, surprisingly calm for a man who just had his soul probed. “’m feelin’ fine.”

“Good. Let me know the second anything changes. And don’t try to extract anything by yourself.” Flowey moved underground again, appearing in front of the console and messing with it. “Souls are very precious things. They can withstand a lot, but they can also be damaged easily if you’re not careful. You could cause serious problems for yourself if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

The machine made a noise before powering down, and a red light started glowing on the console. “Okay, I’ve locked this with a password. Now, for the difficult part.” A pensive look crossed the flower’s face.

Sven gulped, almost afraid to ask, but managed to spit out. “What’s the difficult part?”

“Research.”

It didn’t take long for the humans to realize why this was the difficult part.

There was so. Much. Manga.

“Seriously? Who the hell mixes in their research material with their lame nerd crap?” Sven huffed as he threw another fantasy book about a catgirl halfway across the room. Flowey caught it and set it down.

“Doctor Alphys, I guess.” The manga was set on top of an ever growing pile of discarded books. The condition for all of them was incredibly poor; most of the times, the covers had fallen off and were replaced with generic brown protectors, so it was nigh impossible for a normal person to tell them apart from the research material they were searching for. “She was too afraid to do any actual work after her many, many screw ups, so she’d hide down here just to read manga. It was really depressing to watch.”

“Uh-huh,” Sven glanced over to the other bookcases, trying to see if his colleagues were having better luck. The Right Hand Man was going through each and every book, flipping open the cover before setting it down into one of two piles; a manga pile and read later pile, presumably. Burt had grabbed one of the books and was now squatting on the other side of the room, reading intently. Sven shook his head and got back to work.

Minutes later, Burt called out. “Ey yo, check this out! I think I’ve got something!”

Immediately everyone – sans Reginald, who was left lying on a bed in the other room – gathered around Burt and his book.

“This one,” The communications specialist pointed at a section, “sounds just like what the Chief’s going through.”

‘Transcribed Records of Professor M. R., Human Magical Researcher. Estimated Date: Autumn of -77 Pre-War Era.

‘Tragedy struck today during our tests of the DETERMINATION crystal. Overuse caused the crystal to overheat and fracture. Despite this, Professor [UNKNOWN, ILLEGIBLE] insisted that the testing be carried out as normal. As a direct result, during the next test, Subject Mel [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] was overexposed to raw DETERMINATION. They were immediately transferred to our medical ward for treatment by our monster scientist. Closer examination of their soul indicates that the subject now completely lacks in DETERMINATION. Needless to say, Professor [UNKNOWN, ILLEGIBLE] will likely not be here by this time next week.

‘In absence of Professor [UNKNOWN, ILLEGIBLE], I’ve been temporarily promoted to head researcher. In eight weeks time, it will be a permanent promotion. In less political news, Subject Mel [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] has begun to deteriorate rapidly. Professor Lilith, our monster specialist in Souls, has theorized that the overdose of DETERMINATION has caused their soul to entirely halt its own production of DETERMINATION, like when a field that has grown potatoes for too long will refuse to yield anymore. As a result, when the DETERMINATION escaped their body, their soul was no longer replacing what was lost. P. Lilith has reassured me that so long as Subject Mel [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] undergoes constant healing, they will pull through. I find myself reluctant to trust a monster’s judgment on a human soul, however. I have already begun preparing the papers to report Subject Mel’s [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] death.

‘Subject Mel’s [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] condition has turned out to be more serious than Professor Lilith first assumed. It is no longer just their DETERMINATION that is failing them; their soul is no longer producing _any_ of the seven traits that make up a human soul. In light of this new information, P. Lilith has changed her prognosis to a maximum of twenty-seven days before their soul completely deteriorates. When I asked if death would follow, P. Lilith cryptically replied “If they are lucky.” She longingly gazes at Subject Mel’s [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] soul when she believes I am not looking. I have decided to increase security in the medical ward until further notice. In less depressing news, my parents have decided not to go through with forcing my sister to marry into the Solimon family, after it recently came to light that the patriarch had fathered a bastard out of wedlock. With luck, I can convince them to send my sister up to this facility so I can aid her in eloping with Professor Swann’s son. Bright lad, he is.

‘Increasing security was the right call. We caught Professor Lilith attempting to steal Subject Mel’s [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] soul in the middle of the night. She claimed that she was just trying to heal it, but I’ve been around magic long enough to know when it’s being used, and she was definitely not using any. After a long discussion with my colleges, we have decided to send P. Lilith back to the Monster King for punishment and request no replacement is sent. We have also decided, without a monster researcher to aid us, that it would be in Subject Mel’s [UNCONFIRMED TRANSLATION, BEST GUESS] best interest to be euthanized. The procedure will be administered this afternoon, and their remains sent to their family the next day. May God be with them.’

A powerful silence fell over the group.

“Welp,” Flowey said after a while, popping its ‘p’ playfully, “That certainly explains a lot.”

“So that’s why the Chief’s soul went gray? It’s stopped... producing traits?” Sven scratched his head. He understood it to a degree, but felt like he was missing some very important context. “How does that work?”

“OH! That’s actually something I know!” Flowey beamed up at them, and before he could react Sven felt his soul being pulled from him again. “Okay, so there are seven traits that make up a human soul! First, and most imporantly, DETERMINATION. That’s the red colour!” Sven’s gaze lingered on the Right Hand Man, whose soul had also been exposed. The small hole in his soul where they’d extracted DT earlier had already vanished. “DETERMINATION is essentially your will to live. It’s the power to keep moving forward, in spite of everything. It’s primarily associated with time magic, because you have to be stubborn about getting what you want to manipulate the time stream. It’s a magic so difficult, not even monsters could do it! Only the most determined of souls can even notice time magic being performed, let alone do it themselves!”

“So...” The Right Hand Man interjected, “Since my soul has a buncha this DETERMINATION stuff, I could do time magic?”

“Sure!” Flowey grinned at him. “It’s pretty hard, but I bet you could pull it off. You just need to be stubborn enough to make time do what you want, and you certainly are stubborn...” The flower immediately bounced back to the previous subject. “Anyways! The second trait, which is associated with the colour orange, is BRAVERY; the power to overcome fear and ACT in spite of it. Bravery souls can use elemental magic, because according to Doctor Alphys, ‘The Elements are endlessly danger by their very nature, so you need to be incredibly BRAVE to face them.’

“Next is JUSTICE, the yellow colour. Justice is what defines your morals, and what makes you act when you feel yourself or others are wronged. That surge of rage when someone you care about is hurt? That comes from your sense of JUSTICE. Justice souls are naturals at summoning and manipulating weapons. Your sense of JUSTICE manifests into something you can use to protect others, or punish others, however you interpret it.”

“The colour green represents KINDNESS. That’s where things like love and empathy and affection come from, bleh. Personally, I think KINDNESS is a little overrated, too many unnecessary emotions, but I guess some people find it useful. Annoying, but useful.” Flowey actually pouted at that, like a small child not getting its way. “KINDNESS is where healing magic comes from. So that’s cool, I guess.”

“And that cyan colour your, uh, out of it friend’s soul was? That’s PATIENCE.”

“Patience?” Burt wrinkled his nose. “Is the Chief patient? That’s not how I’d describe him.”

“Would you use words like ‘intelligent’?” Flowey asked. “Observant? Thoughtful? Yeah, those kinds of things go under PATIENCE. People with large amounts of this trait find it easier to sit back and think about things, so they tend to come across as pretty smart.”

Something the Chief said to him came back to Sven. “You wait, and you listen.”

“Exactly! Nice to know you’ve got a brain between those gross, sweaty ears of yours, blue boy.” Burt exhaled sharply at Sven’s side. “PATIENCE souls tend to excel at analytical magic because of that.”

“Huh.” The Right Hand hummed. His gaze was directed at the doorway, no doubt thinking about the man resting in bed just a few rooms away. “Ya know, Reg was always making ‘ese really detailed observati’n’s. Like, stuff you would’t normally be able ta tell jest from a glance. Ya think maybe...?”

“It’s definitely possible.” Flowey chimed up. “He might not have even realized it if he had. I... er, _knew_ a PATIENCE-type soul once who used that kind of magic all the time, and didn’t even realize that wasn’t how everyone else saw the world.”

The Right Hand Man didn’t answer back. Just continued gazing out the doorway thoughtfully.

“And your soul, the one that’s that sharp blue colour?” Sven realized Flowey was talking about him. “That’s INTEGRITY. Let me guess: you’re honest, you’re loyal, you’ve devoted yourself to a single cause so entirely that you can’t imagine a life outside of it?”

Sven flushed, which was all the answer Flowey needed.

“Yup, that comes from your high levels of INTEGRITY. And because of that high INTEGRITY, you should be able to perform spacial manipulation magic. See, because you know who and what you are, you can use yourself as a central point of grounding so you can manipulate space around you.”

Back at the prison, when facilitating their escape, Sven had knocked down a fence wall with a single punch. It hadn’t been raw strength, he’d known that even at the time. He had also known for certain what his duty as a Toppat was and that he had to do what was necessary. That fence HAD to come down. And so it had. That was all there was to it.

Was that magic?

“Then, finally, purple guy.” Flowey had moved on while Sven had been contemplating, and it was now sitting in front of Burt. The shorter man scowled and put a hand between the flower and his exposed soul. “Your primary trait is PERSEVERANCE. You’re adaptable, you’re resilient. You tend not to panic as easily as others. And when caught in a bind, instead of panicking or bemoaning your situation you’re quicker to search for a valid solution, even if that solution is changing something prominent or just waiting.”

“Thanks for reading my horoscope.” Burt replied flatly, obviously unimpressed.

“...People whose primary trait is PERSEVERANCE can more easily use transformation magic. They can change their shape, or the shape of other things.” Flowey raised a brow at Burt, but otherwise didn’t respond to his obvious disdain. “Anyhow, those are the seven traits that make up a human soul. All humans have all seven in different quantities. The colour of your soul is determined by the trait you have the most of. And just because you have a lot of one trait, doesn’t mean you can’t use magic that requires a different trait. As long as you have enough of that one trait, you can use the magic associated with it. Like, your primary trait may be PERSEVERANCE, but if you have enough BRAVERY you can still cast fire spells, you know?

“Each of these traits are necessary for a healthy soul to function. You need to be DETERMINED enough to want to live, BRAVE enough to face reality, JUST enough to protect yourself and others, KIND enough to form healthy relationships, PATIENT enough to have conscious thought about the world, enough INTEGRITY to understand who you are and what you want, and be able to PERSEVERE through any hardship life can throw at you. But with your broken little buddy, he doesn’t have enough of ANYTHING. That’s why he’s catatonic.”

They all took a moment to digest the information Flowey gave them.

Sven spoke his thoughts out loud. “Can we just continue supplementing the Chief with these... traits?”

Flowey shook its head. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. We can’t just keep taking DT from big, tall and ugly over there forever. It’s inefficient, and eventually his soul won’t be able to take it anymore. Besides, while DETERMINATION is fairly easy to extract, and KINDNESS can be spread through sheer force of will, the other traits... aren’t so clear cut. How do you take INTEGRITY from someone? Or PATIENCE? I’ve bought you a little time, but probably not enough to figure all that out.”

“Then let’s see if we can’t restart it,” Burt suggested. “Like a car with a dead battery. Maybe we can jumpstart it somehow.”

“...even if we do figure out how to do that.” Flowey’s cheerful voice suddenly turned grave and sad. “A big chunk of your friend’s soul is already gone. He’ll never be the same again.”

Sven’s breath hitched.

There it was; confirmation that he’d damaged the Chief beyond repair. They’d never really have Reginald back. No more late night heist planning. No more of Reginald’s playful teasing of the Right Hand. No more arguing about whether tea or coffee was better, no more movie nights under the guise of ‘studying heists gone wrong’, no more scoldings no more insisting he go to bed on time no more surprise dinners at his door no more-

“We’ll find a way.” The Right Hand Man’s curt voice cut through Sven’s frantic thoughts.

“You’ll find a way?” Repeated Flowey, incredulous. “Yeah, sure, okay. You’ll find a way to not only restart a broken soul – something that has _never been done before_ – but also pull dissolved soul pieces from the void?” There was a sarcastic twinge to its voice, but when it met the Right Hand’s firm glare, Flowey’s petals dropped a little in surprise. “Oh. You’re serious. Ugh, I should send you out of here. I should send you over to the monsters...” Flowey was mumbling for himself, “But goddamn it, this is probably the most interesting thing that’s going to happen down here for a long while. Alright! I’m in, I guess.”

“Great.” The Right Hand Man pushed himself off the wall and began walking out. “C’mon, boys, let’s get some sleep. We’ll start first thing in the mornin’.”

Flowey burrowed underground, following behind. Sven watched them walk off and started to follow behind when he heard Burt call to him from where he was staring.

“Hey, what do you think about Flowey?” Asked Burt.

Sven turned fully to his friend. “Um, I’m not sure how to feel about it.” Sven confessed. “It’s been helpful, but it’s also, like, incredibly creepy.”

“I don’t trust it.” Burt’s tone was unusually serious. “It knows way too much about human souls for a monster that’s supposedly been stuck underground its entire life. It’s also weird that it’s down here alone when all the monsters have gone above ground... I don’t know.” Burt scratched his neck. The pensive look on his face caused a surge of something unfamiliar in Sven, something that urged him to squeeze Burt until he either smiled or popped like a grape. Wisely, Sven pushed it down. Burt continued on, “Something isn’t quite right here. With Flowey.”

“Well, he’s helping us with the Chief,” Sven said, because he didn’t really know what else to say, “even if you don’t like it, we have to work with it for now.”

“...” Burt tugged his hat over his face, then pushed himself off the wall and went to leave the room. Before he left he said, “Just... promise me you’ll keep your eyes peeled, okay?”

“Okay.” Sven agreed. Burt left, and then Sven was alone with the thoughts in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interesting factoid about this chapter. Normally I do the title card, then write the chapter, then choose a part to illustrate. In this chapter, it was actually the reverse: I did the illustration, then wrote the chapter, then made the title card last. Anyways, there was a lot of important stuff here, so feel free to ask for clarification. Unless it's a spoiler, I'll be happy to answer any questions.


	9. Thaaat's Politics!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk goes on their rounds before the big meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This shouldn't take too much time. It's just a breather chapter to set up some conflicts and get a feel for the characters' headspaces. What could possibly go wrong?" I say, and then proceed to write THE LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR. Enjoy.

****

**The smell of fresh morning dew on the grass fills you with DETERMINATION.**

“Now, you’ve got everything you need for the day?” Toriel asked with thinly veiled concern in her voice. “Your cell phone? Extra food in case you get hurt? Pocket change? Your cell phone?”

“Mom!” Frisk giggled a little. “Yes, I do. I’m just doing my rounds! It’s not like anyone’s going to FIGHT me in broad daylight!”

Toriel paused to take a deep breath, then smiled down at Frisk, more easy than it had been when Frisk had returned for bed at near midnight. “Oh, forgive me, my dear. I’m just a silly old lady who worries too much.” She punctuated this statement with a nervous giggle, then bent down to try and force Frisk’s shirt to straighten; with no spare clothing to change into, this was going on the fifth day that the young ambassador had worn this striped shirt and pants combination, and it was only thanks to the graces of Onionsan allowing them to wash up fully-clothed in their pond that they didn’t smell like cave musk.

Once she’d finished making Frisk presentable, Toriel pressed her fuzzy muzzle against Frisk’s forehead and gave them a maternal kiss. The child giggled at the tickling sensation her fur caused.

“Be careful, my child.” One of Toriel’s soft, warm hands cupped Frisk’s face, her palm bigger than the child’s cheek. The other playfully tousled Frisk’s hair. “The meeting is this afternoon at one o’clock. I’ll be preparing here until then, so let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay mom. Love you, bye!”

Frisk took off, waving back at Toriel as they ran. Yesterday they’d started at the tent nearest to the humans and worked their way back. Today they were heading to the eastern side of the camp – a little unconventional of a choice, but they had a _very_ good reason for heading that direction.

Frisk paused outside of a particular tent, took a deep breath, then yelled out.

“Hey! Monster Kid, you up?”

Some crashes and clangs were the immediate response. Frisk rocked back and forth on their feet as they listened to the sounds of things banging around and being tossed this way and that. After a long minute of flurried activity, the small yellow form of Frisk’s friend Monster Kid emerged from the chaos.

The child looked flustered for a brief moment before immediately putting on a cool fascade. “Yo! Frisk! N-nice to see ya! You, uh, you see any of that?”

“See any of what?” Frisk asked, biting their lip to hide their smile.

“Uh, nothing.” The kid’s face turned an adorable shade of red as they shuffled nervously. “So, uh, whatchya need?”

For the sake of MK’s precious ego, Frisk let the subject drop and instead asked, “Do you wanna come on my rounds with me today? I know it’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but maybe if we finish up quick we’ll have time to play before the meeting this afternoon!”

Instantly the Kid’s face lit up. They jumped for joy off of the ground, then immediately face-planted. “I’m okay!” The called as they hoisted themselves back up without any help. “Uh, yeah, yeah! That sounds awesome, yo! Uh, hold on... HEY MOM!” MK’s voice suddenly cranked up to eleven. “I’M GOING TO HANG OUT WITH FRISK! THAT COOL?”

“JUST STAY AWAY FROM THE HUMANS, DEAR!” A deep, womanly voice called back from inside the tent where MK’s family was staying.

Monster Kid turned back to Frisk with a beaming expression. “Alright, let’s go!” They marched off, only getting a few steps before Monster Kid asked, “Uh, where are we going, exactly?”

“I try to check in on everyone at least once a day.” Frisk told them, not even slowing their pace as they spoke. “But some... stuff happened last night, so I want to make sure Undyne and Alphys are okay.”

“Uh, she’s _UNDYNE_.” MK immediately shot back. Despite having mostly gotten over the hero worship, it was clear they still thought very highly of Undyne and her strength. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Frisk, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as certain. Undyne was strong, yes, but last night she had entirely lost her cool over mere _words_. As ambassador between monsters and humans, it was Frisk’s job to make sure that she wasn’t feeling too guilty or, more likely, wasn’t still stewing in rage over Mister Price’s reaction to learning about the dead kids.

**It may also be wise to speak with Mister Price concerning the incident.**

Fair point.

The two children slowly weaved through the crowded camp, stopping to talk with every monster who caught their attention. ~~Chara~~ Frisk kept a mental note of all of the monsters they encountered on the way, ticking off everyone that they knew was okay and didn’t need anything. For the most part, everyone was keeping their spirits up; some were discouraged or disappointed with their current predicament, of course, but they were mostly happy to be alive and on the surface again. Frisk also noticed a few of the kinder soldiers – Calvin and Konrad, a woman in a ponytail, several others – slowly bleeding over to the monster side of the encampment. One had gotten a stick from outside the camp and was playing fetch with the Snowdin Royal Guard (being extra generous with the pets, Frisk noticed – their mistake, hah). Gerson had managed to gather a small group of humans, and must have managed to remember most of the details of a fairly interesting story, because they were all thoroughly engaged. One unfortunate guard had made the mistake of speaking to a Tem, and was now swarmed with curious Temmies.

**Seeing a budding sense of cooperation among the monsters and humans fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

“C’mon, Frisk! Let’s hurry to Undyne’s tent so we can go play!” MK ran ahead of them, their feet pounding heavily against the ground. At this point Frisk basically expected the hard thunk and soft ‘oof’ when they inevitably tripped and hit their head again, but the mirroring ‘ow’ from an unfamiliar voice was slightly unexpected.

When Frisk rounded the corner, across from the already-on-their-feet Monster Kid was standing worriedly over a human man. He definitely stood out in comparison to the other men around the camp; wearing denim and a gray security cap instead of a green uniform, and covered in bumps and bruises. Most noticeable, however, was the solid white cast that covered one of his legs, and Frisk desperately hoped that his falling didn’t make it worse. Even with healing magic, it would still need to be set to heal properly, and that would not be fun for the poor man.

**Also, the last thing the monsters need is an accusation of physical assault against an already weakened human.**

Oh, yeah, and there was that, too.

Nervous as they were, Frisk scurried past MK to stand in front of them and asked the human, “Are you okay, Mister?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah!” The human assured them, practically waving off Frisk’s concern. Then, using only the tent nearby as leverage, they pulled themselves up into a standing position. It was then that Frisk noticed that the man had no crutches. “It’s no trouble, heh. You’re not hurt, little guy?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Mk approached the man. “You, uh, need any help, mister?”

A grimace crossed the man’s face. “Oof, Mister. That makes me feel old. Ah, how ‘bout you kiddos just call me Dave, alright?”

Both MK and Frisk tried to offer themselves as supports for the human, but he waved them off and slowly scuttled along using only the tent for assistance. Dave only acquiesced at the worried insistence of both children, and finally took a load off on a chair just outside the tent that the dogs had been sharing. At ~~Chara’s~~ insistence, Frisk took a moment to **CHECK** on Dave, but other than a little fatigue from the long walk, he seemed fine.

“You sure you’re alright?” MK asked for what must’ve been the hundredth time. Their face had lost the guilty worry line they’d gained when they first knocked Dave over, but they still seemed very concerned.

“It’s fine, honest! This isn’t even the worst I’ve had! It’s just a little broken.” As if to punctuate his point, Dave carefully lifted his injured leg up, then gently set it down again.

“Did you get beat up like that fighting bad guys?” MK asked, a spark of amazement lighting their eyes.

Immediately Dave winced and looked away. He’d been pleasant and friendly so far, but in that single instance something dark clouded his expression. After a moment of hesitation Dave said, “Eh, not quite. I... got myself into a mess a little while ago. Got tangled up with people I shouldn’t have, and they took me prisoner.”

MK gasped in shock. “And they broke your leg?!”

“No, no! They didn’t hurt me physically!” Dave reassured them. “They’re jerks, but they’re not, like, evil! No, I ended up like this getting back. Ya see, the people who kidnapped me had this space station, and they brought me with them when they went up to space. And when the space station exploded, my prison pod ejected on its own, which was nice of them, but it wasn’t... exactly... built for reentry. I’m probably lucky I survived at all.”

**This story sounds vaguely familiar to you.**

Yeah... now that they were thinking about it, didn’t the criminals Charles had died stopping have a space station?

Wild.

“You went to _space?!_ ” MK gasped excitedly. “YOOO! That’s so COOL! What’s space like? Is it cold? Did you get to walk outside in a spacesuit!”

“I didn’t get to do anything, kid. I was a prisoner.” Dave looked down at the ground, not looking at either of them. “But... I mean, I was only their prisoner for a few months. You guys have been stuck in a cave longer than I’ve been alive. When it comes to the Suffering Game, I think the monsters have won hands down.”

That caught Frisk’s attention. The only humans who had come around had done so because they’d been essentially forced to spend times with the monsters. Everyone who wasn’t required to be around them avoided this side like the plague, with the exception of that weird Henry guy, who despite being pleasant to the monsters clearly had his own reasons for being there. This was the first human who’d sought out the monsters without being forced, or having an ulterior motive.

So Frisk asked, “Why did you come over here, anyways? It’s not exactly a hot spot with the other humans.”

“I’ve been meaning to come over here since my friend told me about you. Would’ve come sooner, but, you know,” Dave gestured vaguely to his injured leg, “I’m not exactly winning any races over here. I just... I don’t know what it’s like to spend your entire life in a prison, but I was locked up by those... _jerks_ ,” Dave’s tone suggested that this wasn’t quite the word he wanted to use. A word Frisk likely didn’t know **(But you probably did.)** “for something that wasn’t even my fault. It wasn’t right when the Toppats did it to me, and it wasn’t right when our ancestors did it to yours.” For that, he turned to Monster Kid and looked him dead in the eyes. “To be honest, I don’t entirely understand why what happened... happened. But I don’t have to know that to know that you all deserve your freedom, just as much as any human does.”

Hearing this from another human had Frisk grinning ear to ear. They still had an uphill battle to fight, but it was nice to know that they weren’t the only human who could see what was blatantly in front of their face.

“Yeah, I don’t get it, either.” Monster Kid told him. “Everyone always talked about humans like they’re super evil or something, but then Frisk came along and they were, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. Undyne told me to stay away from ‘em, but... Frisk never hurt anyone.”

A prickle of foreign guilt tickled at Frisk’s skin, as well as a sense of familiar bitterness all their own. They brushed it off.

“My friend was like that too, but to be fair, he’s pretty overprotective.” Dave laughed. “I’m surprised he hasn’t-”

**And if you speak of the devil, he shall appear.**

And surely enough, their friendly conversation was interrupted by a familiar voice booming over the crowds, calling out, “DAVE! DAVE!”

When the voice began to draw closer, Dave shouted out, “Over here, Rupert!”

Shortly after that, the familiar form of Mister Price shoved his way through the crowd, his hair bristled like an agitated cat and his eyes narrowed in on Dave with thinly veiled frustration. Underneath one arm he held a pair of crutches, and under the other he was hauling a folded-up wheelchair. He approached them quickly with long, harsh stomps.

“Dave!” He shouted, tone scolding, “Did ye seriously leave yer fu- fricken’ crutches in our tent?! What the heck?!”

“Yeah...” Awkwardly, Dave rubbed the back of his head, casting a glance to the side. “I thought about grabbing them, but I really shouldn’t be depending on something like that to get around. Need to pull my own weight, ya know?”

“...Dave, ye literally have a broken leg.”

“Well, yeah,” Dave shrugged, “But I can’t stop that from letting me live my life.”

“Oh my god.” Mister Price’s head rolled back. “I cannot believe ye just said that. C’mon, the medic wants ta check on yer stitches.” He placed the crutches carefully on the ground so he could open the collapsable wheelchair. Frisk noticed that Dave grimaced a little when he saw it; evidently, he wasn’t a big fan.

“Rupert, seriously, I can walk just fine.” Protested Dave immediately.

Instantly Mister Price paused in his checking of the wheelchair, hand literally stopping in mid-air. He turned to them with a dead-eyed stare and, with barely restrained agitation in his voice, asked, “Ambassador, can you _please_ tell this moron to _let me take care of him?!_ ”

Dave lifted a finger, probably about to protest, when something the other man said struck a chord. He turned back to Frisk and asked, “Wait, you’re the ambassador?” His eyes lit up in excitement. “That’s so cool! How’d you get that job? You’re so young!”

Sensing no malice in his words, Frisk smiled sincerely and sat on the ground near Dave. They could hear Mister Price sighing in annoyance, but paid him no mind. “Well, as you already heard, the monsters didn’t exactly have the highest opinion on humans. Who could blame them, after everything that’s happened between us? But I managed to convince all of them to SPARE me, even though they needed my soul to break the barrier.” Rupert tensed at the mention of souls, but didn’t say anything. “With nothing but a little KINDNESS and an open ear, they all became my friends, and the King was so impressed by my DETERMINATION that he offered me the position of ambassador, and of course I said yes! This way, I could protect my friends. The only ones I’ve ever had.”

Smiling softly, Frisk gazed down on the grass, remembering how warm and inviting Toriel had been from the start, how Papyrus gradually realized he wanted to be their friend, how Undyne took a chance and opened herself up to them, how Alphys was so desperate for friendship. It took a bit of work, and a lot of DETERMINATION, but everything turned out for the best.

**Well, mostly everything.**

Out of the corner of their eyes, Frisk could see a familiar set of empty eyes watching them from the corner. They shivered and shied away from Sans’ stare.

“Wow...” Dave whispered in awe. “You’re an incredible kid, you know?”

“I’ve gotten that a lot.” Frisk answered. “It’s because I’m really DETERMINED. It’s my soul’s strongest quality.”

Curiosity crossed Dave’s face. “That’s the second time you’ve brought up souls. Are, uh, are monsters, like, really religious or something?”

Monster Kid looked confused. Mister Price looked down at the ground in thought. Frisk took a deep breath. Right. Humans didn’t know about souls; even Frisk hadn’t known about souls before they fell. So Frisk told him, “No, nothing like that. A soul is more like... a magical representation of your personality and your memories. Everything that makes you... you in a little heart-shaped container. See?”

With a soft ‘boop!’, Frisk tapped their own chest and called the familiar red construct of their soul out into the open. Some monsters looked over as soon as they sensed the exposed power, but quickly turned away when they realized their ambassador was just showing off. Monster Kid called out, “Oh, me too!” And tucked their head into their chest to boop it and call their own soul out. The two souls glowed in harmony, the white and red lights combing to bathe their surroundings in a gentle pink aura. Dave gasped in astonishment, and even Mister Price’s stern expression softened as DETERMINATION and HOPE washed over them all.

“Whoa...” Dave stared at the two lights in astonishment. He was squinting pretty harshly against the raw power of two souls, but never averted his eyes. “That’s... incredible. Do all humans have something like that?”

“Of course!” Frisk responded instantly. “I think anything that’s alive and conscious has a soul. Wanna see yours?” Dave nodded excitedly.

Having set the wheelchair and crutches aside to stand at Dave’s side, Mister Price interjected, “Are you sure that’s... safe?” The way his eyes followed each monster made Frisk want to scowl, but they refrained.

“Of course it’s safe!” Assured Monster Kid. “No one’s gonna attack ya or anything, and ya can’t take a soul from a living person.”

Not that they needed to reassure stuffy old Mister Price. All Frisk had needed was Dave’s consent before they leaned in and gently whispered, “Boop,” As they tapped his chest. Strong violet light poured out over the camp, and once again the monsters stopped to stare at the outpouring of power before continuing on with their day. The violet light made Frisk feel tougher and more energetic.

“It’s different from yours.” Dave noticed immediately. “It’s purple!”

“It’s pretty...” Mister Price spoke with soft awe, before immediately turning red and glancing away from Dave’s amused smile.

“All souls are different colours, based on what kind of person you are.” Frisk answered.

**Purple is the colour of PERSEVERANCE.** **This is the trait that allows humans to survive and adapt throughout hardship. Those with this trait tend to be quick-witted, adaptable, and able to withstand and bounce back from trouble easier than others.**

Frisk relayed this information to Dave, who nodded in understanding with each word.

“That sounds about right.” He said, then paused with a blink. “Wait, is that condescending?”

“Nah,” Reassured Monster Kid, “It’s your soul. You should know yourself better than anyone.”

“Ooh!” A large smile crossed Dave’s face as he turned to Mister Price, “What about your soul? Come on, let us see!” His broken leg limited his mobility, but Dave still managed to grab onto Mister Price before the other man could move away. The soldier flushed at the tight grip on his arm, but didn’t push Dave off.

“Er... I dunno...” Mister Price scratched his head.

“Come on, it’s super easy!” Frisk grinned. Summoning your own soul, and the souls of others, was in fact one of the simplest, easiest spells anybody could perform. Just remembering the sensation of Flowey pulling their soul from them during that first encounter had been enough to teach Frisk how to do it. They told Dave, “Just remember how I did it! It’s surprisingly easy.”

With a nod, Dave softly tapped Mister Price’s chest, and instantly their vision was filled with powerful orange light. It filled Frisk with confidence looking upon it.

**BRAVERY. The power to stand up to life’s challenges and face them head on.**

This information didn’t cause a dawning look of understanding on Rupert’s face, like learning about PERSEVERANCE had with Dave. Instead, something dark and defeated covered Rupert’s features. He reached out and cradled his own soul in his hands, his eyes lost in the warm orange light.

“That can’t be right.” Rupert insisted. “I ain’t- BRAVERY doesn’t suit me.”

“Are you kidding?!” Dave hoisted himself up, letting the violet light of his soul disappear again. Upon seeing Dave struggle to stand, Rupert immediately abandoned his internal struggled to aid his injured friend. Once he had a firm grip on Rupert’s shoulder, Dave looked Rupert square in his eyes and told him, “Rupert Price, you are one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. Remember when you found me? The prison pod I was stuck in was smoking, and I couldn’t get out with my broken leg. I thought I was really gonna die, but you just charged right in and pried that sucker open with a crowbar! You saved my life! You’re a hero Rupert!” Dave’s cheeks suddenly changed hue and became a bright red.

Now normally, this would’ve been enough to cheer anybody up, and for a second it seemed to work for Rupert. He smiled warmly at the other man for an instant. Then he frowned again, and told the man he was holding up, “C’mon, Dave. Let’s go get that medic check up over with, yeah?” and turned around to grab Dave’s wheelchair. Once his face was hidden from his friend, Rupert’s mask dropped, and his face seemed to sag with the weight of something heavy.

**Rupert Price is behaving suspiciously. We should keep an eye on him in the future.**

Frisk mentally agreed as they watched Rupert wheel Dave off. Next time they got a moment alone with Rupert Price, they needed to have a serious talk with that guy.

Monster Kid and the human ambassador continued to cross the camp, stopping to check in with various monsters along the way. They stopped to greet Asgore and indulged a short ‘promotional show’ from Mettaton and his newly reunited family. Finally, at last, they reached the medical tent where Alphys and Undyne were residing.

“Guys?” Frisk called as they crept in, Monster Kid trailing at their heels, “It’s Frisk! Are you here?”

“Oh, hey kids!” Doctor Alphys greeted. Despite the intensity of last night’s events, she seemed to be in fairly high spirits. What was more surprising was that to her left stood General Galeforce, looking exhausted but mostly in good condition, with the green soul of Charles in one of the other containment units between them.

“Good morning, Ambassador.” Mister Galeforce greeted amicably. Then he turned to Monster Kid and offered a friendly smile. “And what’s your name, kiddo?”

“Uh,” Mister Galeforce was tall and dignified, and that seemed to intimidate the normally cool and confident Kid, “Most people call me MK.”

“A pleasure to meet you, MK.” The General tipped his hat to the young monster.

**The General seems to be in high spirits. Now seems like a good time to talk to him.**

**(Ask about OPINION ON MONSTERS) (Ask about LAST NIGHT)**

“General, if you don’t mind me asking,” Frisk took a seat next to the table, patting it invitingly for MK to join, which they did, “Are you really okay with leaving Charles with us? Even after learning about... what monsters could do to human souls?”

“Ah,” The General visible winced at the reminder, “Yeah, that.” Mister Galeforce paused and took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “It certainly is an... _uncomfortable_ truth to face, but I’m not about to let that colour my perception of all monsters. Doctor Alphys here has been nothing but careful with Charlie since we’ve started,” The Doctor blushed the way she always did when praised. “And Captain Undyne apologized to me over tea this morning before she left. She has a temper, but she doesn’t strike me as a bad person.”

Even General Galeforce was warming up to the monsters. In spite of everything, Frisk was feeling fairly good about their chances.

**Do not get overconfident, Frisk. We still have a long way** **to** **go.**

Right. Some humans in the camp were coming around, but that was hardly the victory they were aiming for.

**(Ask about LAST NIGHT)**

“About what happened last night...” Frisk awkwardly scratched the back of their head, not sure where to take the conversation from there.

Remembering what happened the previous evening caused Mister Galeforce to bring his hand up to Charles, laying his palm flat against the glass. “Last night was... intense, to say the least. I’m glad nobody was seriously hurt. Henry’s hands got a little cut up from the glass, but it was nothing too bad...”

“Uh, I’m lost.” MK told them with a confused look on their face. “Did something bad happen?”

“Last night Undyne and a soldier got into a fight.” Frisk told them, cautious to keep the details to a minimum. The tension that had hung over all of their heads had been terrifying, and they didn’t want to inflict that on their friend. “Undyne got mad and threw spears, and they almost hurt this soul here. That ended the fight. I know Undyne went to sulk near the pond after you and Mister Price left, but what happened with you two?”

“I informed Mister Price that I found his conduct... unbecoming of a soldier, and that he’ll be attending a disciplinary hearing about what happened after our summit with the mayor and the city council.” General Galeforce furrowed his brow as he continued. “This isn’t like Rupert. He’s been a commendable soldier from the day he signed up. I’ve only ever seen him this heated when it came to the Toppats, and they kidnapped his friend. There’s something else going on here...” The General stroked his beard in thought. “Something personal.”

**The way he’s speaking suggests he knows something.**

Frisk sidled up to the edge of their seat and asked, “Sir? Do you know why Mister Price’s been so mean?”

“...” Galeforce exhaled. “Maybe. But it’s not my place to say. Rest assured, however, that his behavior _will_ be dealt with.”

Frisk nodded. They weren’t completely satisfied, but they’d have to wait until after the summit to fix whatever the heck was wrong with Rupert Price. Hopefully, SPARING him wouldn't be as difficult as SPARING Undyne had been.

**There are still more things you should speak with the General about while you still can.**

**(Ask about THE SUMMIT) (Ask about HENRY)**

“You’ll be attending the meeting too, right?” Frisk asked him. “What do you think is going to happen?”

This question made the General so annoyed that his mustache actually twitched with the force of his frown. “Honestly, I wouldn’t get your hopes up for anything big to be happening just yet. Politics – our government’s politics especially – move at a snail’s pace. I wouldn’t be surprised if we spent the entire meeting arguing in circles. It might take a few days of debate before anything of merit happens.”

Oh, well, that was comforting. Still, Frisk had their SAVE. They could try strategy after strategy until they got what they wanted. That was their secret weapon.

**(Ask about HENRY)**

“How’s Henry holding up?” Frisk asked. “He, uh, didn’t seem too good last night.”

**That is a drastic understatement.**

Last night, during the argument between Undyne and Rupert, one of Undyne’s spears had knocked the container that had been housing Charles over, shattering the glass container. Henry had made a sound like a drowning cat and leapt over the table before Frisk could even blink, and emerged from the other side with the deep red of blood staining his hands and the deep green of Charles bathing his face. His eyes had been wide and rabid, and his entire body shook as he had screamed until his voice suddenly chocked up and stopped. To be honest, he’d been scarier than either Rupert or Undyne.

Frisk inquired, “Is he doing okay?”

“That’s a... complicated question.” The General lowered the brim of his hat so that it hid his eyes and turned away from Frisk. “He’s asleep right now. Hopefully he’ll stay sleeping for a while... I think it’s been some time since he’s gotten a full night’s rest.”

As Galeforce gazed down at Charles, lost in thought, Frisk couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they were missing. Something important.

They’d make time to seek out Henry and talk to him about that later.

“Yo, Frisk!” MK asked, worriedly, “Are we gonna have enough time to check on everyone before your big meeting?”

Right, yeah. Frisk hopped down off their chair and then helped MK get down without face-planting. “I’d wanted to talk to Undyne about last night too, but I guess that’ll have to wait until later. Sorry to take up your time, General.”

Mister Galeforce nodded his acknowledgment. “I’ll keep Charlie company a little while longer, then I’ll have to begin preparing for the meeting. Doctor, I trust you can handle Charlie by yourself?”

“A-absolutely! I’ll run some more tests, but at this point it’s mostly research.” The Doctor verified. “And don’t worry, Frisk. Undyne knows she was in the wrong last night. N-not to say that Mister Price was right, but we shouldn’t be fighting at all right now!” The General patted Alphys on the shoulder, and that prompted her to take a calming breath. “Undyne promised to try and get a better hold on her temper. I’ll see if I can help her through it. Heh, I get to help her for once!” The Doctor looked positively giddy at the idea.

They said their goodbyes, then Frisk and MK took off. Outside, a familiar chill prompted Frisk to turn to one side, only to match stares with Sans. The skeleton winked at them and walked off.

**What a creep.**

About an hour later, MK and Frisk were transporting foodstuffs for the Snowdin Shopkeeper when Frisk spotted an unfamiliar human man out of the corner of their eye.

Even among the other humans, this man stood out; he was garbed in a finely-pressed suit instead of the military uniform everyone else wore, and his graying hair was slicked back. He didn’t engage with anybody, monster or human. He just hung back and watched, his beady blue-green eyes following various people in the crowds.

They didn’t need to CHECK the man to know he was trouble.

“MK, you see that guy?” They asked.

Kid, turned back to them, nearly hitting Frisk with the sack they were holding with their mouth. Upon following Frisk’s gaze, their eyes found the stranger and Kid must have had the same bad feeling as Frisk, because their expression instantly stiffened up.

“We can drop these off with Asgore in a bit.” Frisk set their crate down. “I gotta see what that guy’s up to.”

“Puu!”MK made a sputtering noise as they spat out the bag they were carrying. “I’ve got your back, yo! It’s just like when we faced Undyne together at the border of Hotlands and Waterfall!”

They... hadn’t, really, but whatever made Monster Kid feel better.

With confidence that could only be born from surviving near-death experiences or being an invincible, inexperienced child (or, like Frisk, both), the ambassador marched right up to the grown man with their firmest glare. Mk followed at their heels with a matching expression

“Hey, mister!” Frisk called over the roar of the crow. The man’s stare was redirected at Frisk, and he stepped closer.

**The HUMAN COUNCILOR approaches!**

“Young child,” the Councilor’s deep voice spoke, calm and slow. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Do yours?” Frisk asked, partially out of reflex.

The man took a moment to indulge this idea. “Hmm, fair enough, I suppose.” He extended his hand out. “I’m the leader of the Ebott City council. You can call me Chief Mitchell. And what’s your name, little one?”

“I’m Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr.” They were getting more and more used to referring to themselves like that with every introduction they made. “I’m in charge of making sure the monsters get treated fairly.”

“And I’m Kid!” Kid yelled, jumping in front of Frisk. “And if you try to do anything to our ambassador, I’mma bite your face off!”

Sweet Kid smiled wide like Undyne, as if to emphasize the danger the man would be in, but only succeeded in looking adorable. It would take a soulless demon not to smile at Kid’s display.

Mister Mitchell must have been a demon, then, because he stared flatly at kid for a moment before pointedly telling them, “I’d like to think I’m smart enough not to ATTACK an important political figure in plain view of their subjects, let alone a child.” The man knelled down in front of them, so they were speaking face to face. “You understand what a big responsibility being an ambassador is, right? It’s a lot of hard work.”

That made Frisk more annoyed than any insult the man could’ve thrown their way. Why did this guy talk to them like they didn’t understand that? They knew, maybe better than anyone else, just how hard the uphill battle they were facing was, but they’d faced a literal _GOD_. They could talk things over with a few old men and get the monsters the freedom they deserved.

“I know what I’m doing, _Sir_.” The word escaped their teeth in a disrespectful hiss. “The monsters have spent their entire lives sealed in a cave, unable to see the sun or the stars in the sky. They deserve freedom more than anyone, and I’m going to make sure they get it!”

“Yeah!” MK cheered. “Frisk is incredible! They broke the barrier all by themselves! And they got the meeting moved up to today so we’d get out of here faster! They’re the COOLEST!”

Frisk went a little red at a blunt praise.

“...so that’s why we were all called out here so suddenly.” Mused Mitchell, stroking his beard. “You’re an interesting character, Mx. Dreemurr. I cannot say I approve of your bludgeoning through bureaucracy, however.”

**A** **w, he thinks you require his approval. That’s cute.**

“...with all due respect, Mister Mitchell.” Frisk watched the old man’s expression carefully as they spoke. “The monsters have only moved from one prison to another right now. My job isn’t over until they have total freedom, equal rights, and everything else they need to lead happy, healthy lives.”

There wasn’t much change in Mitchell’s expression; he observed Frisk like Frisk had observed ants on the ground outside their last foster home, scrutinizing their every word and action under a microscope. He told them, “Child, that’s a noble goal-”

“’Noble’?” MK asked with a scrunched nose, questioning why letting monsters live their own lives was under the label of ‘noble’ and not ‘basic decency’.

“Goal?’” Frisk questioned with a similar expression, as if those things weren’t an inevitability they would fight tooth and nail for.

“-but it would be in both your and the monsters’ best interest if you learned a little PATIENCE. Tell me, what did you think I was doing over here?”

Frisk paused and thought about it, “Uh, intimidation factor?”

“Oh! Oh! I know!” MK hopped on their little legs with excitement, “You’re looking for a girlfriend!”

The Councilor took a short break from the conversation to massage his temple. “I’m here to observe the monsters and form my own opinions before we begin the Summit. I won’t be swayed to fear and panic like many of my colleagues have been, but I will also not jump to conclusions based on one child’s short experiences.” Mitchell stood up and adjusted his tie. “From what I’ve observed so far, the monsters seem to be a fairly relaxed people, but that doesn’t mean they’re powerless.”

“Any monster could be overpowered by a human child!” Frisk objected. “You don’t know-”

“You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t know why a monster attacked a human last night during an argument,” Frisk froze and tensed. How did he know about that? “I don’t know why every human who’s climbed the mountain has disappeared. I don’t know why monsters were sealed away in the first place. But I do know this; if we move too rashly, it’s not just human lives we’ll be putting in danger with this decision. The wheels of government turn slowly for a very good reason, young ambassador. You’ll learn that as you get older.”

In that moment, Frisk understood why Papyrus was constantly shouting and stamping his foot at Sans’ laziness. “Stop. Bringing. My age into this!” Frisk stared the guy dead in his eyes, brilliant red shimmering bright with DETERMINATION. “You keep going on about waiting and waiting, but how does staying still help anything?”

“How does rushing blindly into danger help anything?” Retorted Mitchell immediately. “Your heart’s in the right place, Ambassador, but I think you’ll find blindly charging forward without properly considering the consequences will only put those you care about in harm’s way.”

“Grr...” MK snarled. “Don’t talk about Frisk like that! They’ve done more good in three days than anyone else in this stupid place has done in their entire lives! They’ve changed everyone’s minds about humans being evil just by being really nice! They’re incredible! They’re.... they’re DETERMINED!”

At this point MK was just blindly shouting, so Frisk gently stroked along their spine to calm them down.

“...I’m going to head back to my tent to freshen up,” Councilor Mitchell told them as he walked off. “You’ve accomplished quite a lot, Ambassador. I can’t wait to see how far that DETERMINATION gets you on the political scene.”

Why did that not feel like a compliment?

“Man,” Monster Kid muttered as they watched him walk off, “What a jerk!”

**COUNCILOR MITCHELL could be trouble in the future. Watch yourself around that one.**

“...Let’s get these to Asgore.” Frisk picked up the crate they’d been carrying earlier. “Sorry, I didn’t expect so much stuff this morning. I don’t think we’ll have time to play. You can go if you wanna.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Monster Kid bent down to pick up the sack with their mouth again, but not before stating, “I just like spending time with you.”

Frisk smiled. At least one thing was going well today.

“FRISK! FRISK! STOP!” MK gasped in astonishment as they skid to a stop. They would’ve tripped, but Frisk grabbed them by the back of their shirt and pulled them back to a standing position. Undeterred, MK continued, “OVER THERE! LOOK!”

The other child followed their gaze and- oh. It was Papyrus and Undyne. No wonder Kid got so excited.

Kid giggled and squeed cutely before rushing forward towards their former and current heroes. Frisk watched them for a moment before going to follow after.

“yo, kid.”

**And then there’s** **THIS** **guy.**

This time, Frisk managed not to trip on their own stupidity as they turned around to face their second favourite skeleton. In spite of the many bad feelings Sans could unintentionally cause in them, they really did like the big guy. And besides...

“ _JuSt GiVe Up._ _I dId...”_

Frisk knew there was much more to Sans than meets the eye.

“youve been running yourself ragged all morning,” Sans noted with that same casual friendliness he always used for everyone, “why don’t you give yourself a break? ive got some ‘dogs grilling back at papyrus and mines tent.”

**(Sure!) (Maybe later)**

“Umm...” Frisk took a moment to look back over at Monster Kid, who was now sitting on Papyrus’... bicep?

**That is the Humerus bone.**

Humerus, then. Well, they seemed to be thoroughly engaged in whatever story Papyrus and Undyne were telling to the small group of human soldiers that had crowded them. A moment away probably wouldn’t hurt. Let them just...

**Your friends’ laughter echoing in the distance fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

“Sure!” Frisk chirped up. They were starting to get a little peckish, anyways.

“great. follow me, i know a shortcut.” Frisk followed close behind Sans as he went off in the opposite direction of his and Papyrus’ tent, and...

There they were.

“quick shortcut, huh?” Sans gave them a little wink. “looks like the ‘dogs are almost done. why don’t you go through my cooler and pick out some condiments you like?”

The cooler was, as it turned out, larger than it looked. However, half of it was filled with frozen, pre-cooked spaghetti. Maybe after all this was done, they’d teach Papyrus how to cook something that wasn’t noodles. Pushing past the pasta, Frisk managed to find a bottle of half-filled ketchup, a nearly empty bottle of mustard, an untouched container of relish, and a bag of chopped onions that was _probably_ meant for pasta sauce, but Papyrus wouldn’t mind them borrowing some, right?

Probably.

Frisk grabbed their condiments and set them out, and when Sans removed a ‘dog to pass it over to Frisk, they generously topped it with the fixings. By the time they were done, they had a delicious looking frank, still steaming with heat. They were already wolfing it down by the time Sans had finished up with his own ‘dog.

“hey kid, slow down. youre going to choke on that thing.” Frisk looked up at him, face covered in mustard and relish. “aw geez. who taught you manners? well, just remember to clean up before you take off okay?”

Frisk nodded and pushed the rest of their ‘dog into their mouth. In a surprising twist, water sausages were even more tasty than actual hot dogs.

“so, since were here, you mind if i pick your brain for a moment?” Sans asked as he passed them a towel. Frisk nodded enthusiastically, then buried their face into the towel. “great. so, what do you think the rest of the humans think about us?”

“Um...” Frisk looked up at him. “You mean the soldiers? They’re coming around-”

“nah. i mean the humans outside the camp.”

“Uhh...” Frisk looked down. Admittedly, they hadn’t thought too much about that. They knew the rest of the world knew about the monsters, but beyond that they hadn’t had time to be trolling internet forums to see what the public response to this historic event was. “I’m actually not sure.”

“yeah, i figured.” Sans sat next to Frisk and leaned back, taking a long, savoring look up at the sky. He breathed out a sigh. “ya know, this place really isnt so bad. the soldiers are protecting us, we got all the food we can eat, no angry mobs to worry about. plus, ive heard light pollution in the cities can be killer.”

The way Sans talked made Frisk’s nose scrunch up questioningly. “So what, are you saying you want to stay out here?”

“oh, absolutely not. way too many bugs for my liking. im just saying we shouldnt be in too big a rush to leave, ya know?” Sans winked at them. “at least out here we know what the dangers are.”

**You** **have** **a suspicious feeling of deja vu.**

“to be honest, im not sure how to feel about you humans.” This made Frisk perk up. It had been quite some time since any of the monsters had ‘othered’ Frisk for being human. “youre all crazy unpredictable. what if we head to the city and these politician guys go behind your back when it turns out were not popular? or what if some particularly brave or particularly foolish decided to take ‘justice’ into their own hands? there are too many unknowns. id prefer to take things a little slower.” Sans shrugged. “or maybe im just being a lazybones. hard to tell sometimes.”

“That’s... pretty pessimistic.” Frisk noted cautiously. “You haven’t seemed very happy to be up on the surface. What gives?”

With a long, tired stare up at the sky, Sans answered, “im just... mentally preparing, i guess. pretty sure well be heading back down there eventually.”

“I won’t let that happen!” Frisk told him, stern and firm. “I won’t let the other humans take the surface away from you guys again.”

“ **i w a s n ‘ t t a l k i n g a b o u t t h e o t h e r h u m a n s.”**

The change in his voice made Frisk shiver. Their most recent save was just a few minutes ago, but they could always reset to the moment they fell into the Underground, and this was the closest they’d gotten to confirmation that Sans had known about that ability. Asking for direct information would only result in some bad jokes, though, so Frisk didn’t question Sans further. They didn’t want to know just how much Sans remembered; they hoped it wasn’t much.

**...**

“hmm, seems like ive lost my appetite. you can have my ‘dog, kid. BONE appetit.”

Sans took off, leaving Frisk with a ‘dog they were too full to eat, an uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach, and a long walk to get back to where MK and the others were.

“THERE YOU ARE, FRISK! WE WERE GETTING WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

“Yo, Frisk, where did you go?”

As the young ambassador approached Papyrus and Kid, they scratched the back of their head awkwardly. Attempting to sneak up and rejoin the group steathily hadn’t been a _terrible_ idea, but it was hard to pull off when you were the only human child among a group of monsters and soldiers. “Sorry about that. Sans distracted me for a bit.” They offered as explanation. Nobody looked even remotely surprised. It was then that something blue and shiny caught their eye.

Kid was now wearing a pretty blue ribbon on their head. It glittered in the sunlight, matching quite nicely with their pretty blue eyes.

Somehow Frisk contained a squeal of charmed delight, but they did gasp excitedly at it. “Kid, where did you get that bow? It looks so cute on you!”

The little yellow monster went red at the compliment. “Aw, shucks. Thanks, Frisk! A nice human man gave it to me. Said it’d look better on me than him.”

“AND IT ABSOLUTELY DOES! IT TOTALLY CLASHED WITH HIS JACKET!” Papyrus confirmed with a nod. “THOUGH I MUST SAY, IT DID LOOK QUITE FETCHING IN HIS WHITE HAIR. MAYBE I SHOULD GET WHITE HAIR! WHAT DO YOU THINK, FRISK?”

White hair? That could only be-

**Do not jump to conclusions. You have not met every human in the camp. There could be** **more** **humans with white hair you do not know about.**

“OH, AND UNDYNE SAYS HELLO. SHE WANTED TO GO LOOK FOR YOU, BUT WHEN THE WHITE HAIRED HUMAN CAME TO TALK TO US SHE SUDDENLY HAD TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.”

**Scratch that. It’s definitely Henry.**

Frisk took a deep breath, then turned to Kid. “Do you know what way he went?” They asked. Frisk was pretty sure they knew where Henry was heading, but wanted to make sure before they went running off.

“Uh, yeah.” MK answered. “I’m pretty sure he was headed towards the med-tent.”

Obviously.

“Thanks for joining me today, Kid,” Frisk told their friend with a smile, “But I want to have a word with the white-haired human alone. I’m sorry we couldn’t play. I’ll find you later if I have time, okay?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed Kid’s face, but they nodded regardless. “Alright. See ya soon, Frisk!”

“See ya!” Frisk waved behind them as they took off.

**There isn’t too much time left before the meeting. You will want to make this quick.**

“You’re talkative today, aren’t you?” Frisk noted flatly.

**...you should not talk to yourself in public. It will make you look crazy.**

Frisk rolled their eyes and pressed forward. Once again, they were back inside the medical tent. Doctor Alphys was nowhere to be seen, but Henry was standing next to Charles’ soul, speaking in tones soft enough that Frisk couldn’t hear the words. The KINDNESS radiating from them, however, was palpable in the air.

“Hi, Henry,” Frisk greeted. The quiet words stopped.

“Uh, the Doc stepped out to get some food,” Henry told them awkwardly. There were still heavy bags under his eyes, but he’d at least cleaned up and brushed his hair before coming out here. “She said she’ll be back in maybe an hour...”

Undeterred, the child moseyed on up to Henry and stood by his side in front of the container that held that beloved green heart. “I... actually came out here to check on you. Are you okay after last night?”

Henry looked back at Charles’ soul, not meeting Frisk’s eyes. “I’m still alive.”

Not exactly a satisfying answer.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” They asked.

“...” Henry opened his mouth, then closed it again. Several conflicted emotions passed over his expression. “...no,” He said, eventually, “Thanks though.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence. Still, Frisk thought. There had to be something they could do to raise Henry’s spirits... hmm. In a past timeline, they’d awoken the souls of the other fallen children by calling out to them in battle. Maybe they could try something like that here? After taking a moment to watch Henry’s tired face, which was still focused entirely on the soul, Frisk reached out and placed their hand on the glass.

_Can you hear me? Are you there?_

Charles didn’t respond.

“Don’t do that.” Henry scolded, taking Frisk’s hands hands off the container. His eyes had sharpened into a glare. The bandages on his hands irritated Frisk’s softer skin.

**It seems Henry is still uncomfortable in your presence. If you really want to change his mind about you, you should probably get to the root of that.**

**(Ask about YOURSELF) (Ask about CHARLES)**

“Do you not like me, Mister Stickmin?” Frisk asked.

With a grimace, Henry turned away from them. “You... make me uncomfortable,” He confessed, “DETERMINATION can be powerful, and you’ve got way more DETERMINATION than any human should have. I don’t know you well enough to _dislike_ you, exactly, but you’re a lot more dangerous than you think you are.” Henry paused, looking over Frisk with a calculating expression. “...you’re hiding something.” He says, sudden and sharp, with a dark look in his eyes. “I don’t think you can be trusted.”

The same uneasy feeling roiled their stomach. Frisk desperately hoped that ‘dog they’d had earlier wouldn’t be making a reappearance.

“...I just want what’s best for the monsters,” Frisk whispered, looking down.

“That’s fair enough,” Henry agreed. “The ones I’ve met,” He paused and looked down at Charles’ soul, “Well, _most_ of the ones I’ve met have been nothing but pleasant and friendly. I wish nothing but the best for them... I’m just not sure the other humans will be as nice. You’ll need to approach them cautiously if you want their freedom.”

Frisk nodded. There wasn’t much else they could do.

“...I just hope they don’t accidentally make things worse.” Henry whispered to the soul in front of them. Frisk decided to pretend they didn’t hear that.

**(Ask about CHARLES)**

“How’s Charles doing?” Frisk asked.

“...No significant change.” Henry answered. He seemed disappointed.

Charles’ soul resonated in front of them. It’s green glow of KINDNESS was warm and inviting, though muted through the glass. Charles must have been a nice person. Idly, Frisk wondered, briefly, if the green soul from the fallen children was the same way.

“I’ve heard about what happened with the Toppats.” Frisk said, and Henry’s brow furrowed angrily at just the _name_. There was no love lost there, clearly. “Charles seemed like an amazing person. I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“...It shouldn’t have happened at all.” Henry scowled. “For Pete’s sake- I can literally _go back in time!_ I should’ve been able to save him! I-I should’ve-” Those DETERMINED red eyes of his started to water. “I should’ve been _good enough_ , dammit!”

**Henry’s words strike a chord in your soul.**

Frisk tapped idly on the table, trying to focus on the rhythmic patting of their hands before telling Henry. “I... think I understand how you feel. I haven’t told anyone this... but I lied when I said I saved all the monsters. There was one I couldn’t save, no matter how DETERMINED I was.”

Henry’s eyes caught theirs.

“His name was Asriel. And he was Mom- Lady Toriel and King Asgore’s son. He actually died a long time ago, but because of science he’d been turned into-”

**A soulless abomination pretending to be ~~our~~ your brother.**

“-a flower. It- He didn’t have his soul anymore when he became a flower... just his memories and DETERMINATION. So he couldn’t feel love anymore... just fear. And boredom. And maybe anger. He... he didn’t deserve to die, or to be stuck in that state. But there wasn’t anything I could do for him. All the DETERMINATION in the world won’t make a soul out of thin air...” Frisk’s eyes stung, and they desperately wiped at them before tears could be shed. “I’m supposed to be able to protect everyone. But I can’t even SAVE one single person. It’s not fair! It’s not right-!”

Henry laid a gentle hand on Frisk’s shoulder, calling them back from that dark place. Shining in his eyes was empathy, an understanding only a fellow time-traveler would be capable of. In that single moment, Frisk felt a spark of something new; something, hopefully, a little friendlier than what they’d been previously.

Maybe they could show Henry MERCY after all.

“Once things are settled down here,” Suggested the older human, “You should head back and try to find him. Who knows? Maybe you’ll have tools to help SAVE him that you didn’t have before.”

Frisk nodded excitedly at the thought. Maybe SAVING Flowey was possible. They just had to come at it from a different angle.

**...This is something that can be dealt with later. For now, we need to leave for the meeting with the Ebott City Council and the Mayor before we’re late.**

“Okay, I think I should go now!” Frisk told Henry with a smile. They felt good about their progress. “Goodbye, Henry! I hope Charles wakes up soon!”

“...Yeah.” Henry agreed quietly. As Frisk slipped out of the tent they could’ve sworn they heard him whisper. “What a kid, huh Charles?”

Frisk smiled and scampered off. They waved to monsters they passed, and received wishes of good luck and generous encouragement as they ran. The human soldiers nodded at them respectfully. Eventually, they came to General Galeforce’s tent, where the meeting would be taking place. Waiting outside was their mother.

“Frisk?” Toriel asked with a smile. She was obviously nervous, but held herself with regal grace. “Are you ready?”

**The cheers of all the monsters you’re responsible for fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved_.

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” Frisk told her, taking her hand. “Let’s go!”

“Thank for the doughnut, Miss Muffet!” Monster Kid said with a smile as they swallowed down the last of their reward for transporting goods for the Spider Bake Sale. The woman smiled wide and waved them off as she returned to her work. Happy to have done some good for the monsters, MK spun around, tripped over their own feet-

-and was caught by a pair of human hands.

“Whoa!” The human said. “Careful there, little guy. You okay?”

“Oh yeah, that happens all the time!” Kid waved off without much concern. “Thanks for the save Miss. I love your hair! It’s so cute!”

The woman flushed and brushed back her beautiful red hair. “Thanks. That’s... really sweet of you. Say, do you know where I can find the monster’s ambassador? I came in with the Ebott City Council, and it’s _really_ important that I talk with them before the Summit.”

Well, wasn’t it lucky that she just so happened to run into the one monster who knew for sure where the ambassador was!

“ _Ambassador_ _Dreemurr_ went to see somebody in the medical tent!” MK told her, emphasizing Frisk’s title in hopes of impressing on the woman just how important Frisk was. “The meeting’s starting pretty soon, but you might catch them if you hurry up! They’re the human with the pretty red eyes, you can’t miss ‘em!”

The woman pat MK carefully on the head, mindful of their spikes and their pretty blue bow. “Thanks, kiddo. I’ll, uh, see you around, maybe.”

“Bye!” MK called after her as she left. What a nice lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shoot, that's not good.
> 
> Well, there's a lot here, but hopefully it was all enjoyable to read. I particularly liked Rupert and Dave's scene... :)
> 
> If you have any questions, just let me know and I'll be happy to answer. So long as it won't spoil anything.


	10. *B U T   N O B O D Y   C A M E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT ELLIE'S GOT A GUN- (BANG)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Gun Violence, Fighting, and Blood
> 
> God, I hope you guys like this one. I've been looking forward to it since the beginning of the story.

“What a kid, huh Charles?” Henry asked as he watched Frisk walk out of the tent.

As if life wasn’t complicated enough without Frisk trying to be all ‘buddy-buddy’ with him. Still, it was better to be on the kid’s good side than their enemy, he supposed. But Henry couldn’t quite shake the feeling of something still being off. Where did all that DETERMINATION come from? How did Frisk know master-level time magic when figuring out the basics had taken Henry years? Given what little information Henry had, it might be prudent take a ‘friends close, enemies closer’ approach to dealing with Frisk in the future.

Well, at least the monsters had a DETERMINED ambassador to protect them from humanity, he supposed.

Henry sighed and all but fell into a chair that was placed next to Charles. Despite the seven hours of rest he’d gotten, he suddenly felt just as tired as he had the previous night. A soreness radiated from his chest cavity and spread across his body like a plague, draining all his energy with its presence.

“Do you think I’m being too hard on them?” He asked, fully aware that he wouldn’t be getting any answer back. “Like, I know you’d be all like ‘Come on, give them a chance! They’re doing some real _good_!’” Henry pumped his one arm as enthusiastically as he could manage with how tired he was. Admittedly, his Charles impression could use some work. “But… I don’t know. They have so much power… and they’re so single-minded… it’s hard to believe they they’re really as benevolent as they seem. Or… maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just can’t imagine somebody having that much power and not abusing the hell out of it.

“I mean… that’s what I did.”

Feeling a bit awkward, Henry glanced off to the side. Charles had said he’d trusted Henry, that he’d believed in him. But he didn’t know Henry. Not really.

He deserved the full truth.

“I’m… not a good person, Charles.” Even though it could be overwhelming to gave upon the beacon of KINDNESS that was his fallen friend’s soul, Henry stared directly at it. This wasn’t something he was going to shy away from. “When I first discovered I had time magic, you know what I used it for? Petty vengeance against bullies. Yeah. None of that ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ nonsense with me. I just straight up dumped lead paint on a guy who said I was too dumb to talk. That’s not a thing good people do, Charles.

“But at least that’s _kinda_ excusable. I was an anxious little kid and these guys made my life a living hell. But then I started using my powers to just take stuff. It started off small. I wanted a sign language book and my mom told me I needed to _use my words_ ,” Henry grit his teeth as he spat the all too familiar phrase out, “and when she wasn’t looking I swiped it. Got caught the first time, and the second time… and the eight time... but eventually I managed to smuggle it out without anyone noticing. Getting it right, after FAILING again and again, was exhilarating. So I’d keep stealing stuff. And I kept getting better, and I kept getting that thrill, so I’d steal more valuable stuff. And it just kept going like that.”

Something melancholy crossed Henry’s face. When he put it like that, it sounded like he’d started stealing because he was a spiteful little brat. At the time, though, it had felt like he hadn’t had any CHOICE in the matter. The thrill of it hadn’t become a major component until later.

“By the time I was an adult, stealing was basically my only marketable skill. It became my job. I’d done everything at least once; threatening people in alleyways, robbing jewelry stores, that kind of typical thug nonsense. Then I found out about this vault in the middle of the desert. I thought, ‘Awesome! Once I get that I’ll be set!’ and then proceeded to fuck up with my SAVE and, well, that lead to me getting arrested...

“...which lead me to you.” This memory put a tiny smile on Henry’s face, though it did not linger for very long. “Charles, I don’t get you. You trusted me. You _died_ for me. And… despite that, you won’t wake up for me. Is it because you knew deep down I was a bad person? Were you just latching onto me because you were desperate for any kind of friend, and didn’t actually like me? Are you… mad at me for not saving you? I don’t understand, Charles. I just… I can’t understand.”

Even though he knew, logically, that the output of KINDNESS Charles naturally put out stayed consistent, it felt stronger somehow. Like Charles was channeling it all towards him; like he was trying to reach out to Henry and reassure him. In his sleeping state that was impossible, but it was certainly a nice thought.

“Right, right… let’s not dwell on those kinds of things. I’m supposed to be keeping your spirits _up_ , not dragging them down to my level.” Henry chuckled, a weak, watery sound that didn’t sound happy at all, and silently wiped at his wet eyes. “Um, maybe I can read to you? The Doc has a bunch of old manga around here, let me see if I can find something that isn’t too… weird.” Giving the capsule one final caress, Henry moved from the table to the nearby bookcase and began perusing Alphys’ collection. A moment after he began scanning the books on the bottom shelf for anything good, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Henry’s attention. “Ah, hey, Doc.” The man greeted nonchalantly. “You got any recommendations-?”

The sudden, unfortunately familiar click of a gun’s safety being turned off caused Henry to tense, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. That… was not the Doctor.

An unfamiliar person’s voice, cool and collected, issued an order to Henry: “Put your hands up where I can see them. And stand. Slowly.”

Reluctantly, Henry complied. He slowly picked himself up up off the ground and spun around to face the woman, hands raised up in a ‘surrender’ gesture. Her face was covered by a thick blue scarf, but her vibrant red hair made her instantly stand out against the dull green of the tent and the various grays of Doctor Alphys’ machinery. The light from Charles danced against her skin, and Henry hoped against hope that she didn’t think he was more than just a charming lamp with calming effects. Her eyes were a rich violet: PERSEVERANCE. Something about her rang a bell in Henry’s head, though he couldn’t say for sure what it was.

“A human in the monster camp,” She noted, deadly calm despite the circumstances, “pretty red eyes. You must be the monster ambassador.”

...she was here for Frisk?

The Henry of two years ago wouldn’t have hesitated. He would’ve told her the truth, maybe provide some sort of description. He would’ve saved himself without hesitation, and this would’ve had the advantage of getting rid of Frisk, who he couldn’t trust as far as he could throw. It would’ve been all too easy.

The Henry of two years ago was a fucking dick.

But the Henry of today was different – or at the very least, was trying to be. He understood that this kid, as strange and unnerving as they were, was the monsters’ best hope for a normal life. If anything happened to them, those poor creatures wouldn’t last long against the terrible prejudices of humanity. Henry knew he hadn’t deserved to live in Charles’ place, but he could at least strive to be somebody that _did_ deserve his sacrifice.

It was the least he could do.

“That’s me.” Henry told her, as calm as he could manage. He concentrated on keeping his breathing even. “My name is Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr. How can I help you?”

Instantly the woman cocked her weapon, pointing it directly at Henry’s chest. “This isn’t anything personal,” She promised, cold and detached, “but once you’re dead, I’ll be set for life.”

Henry inhaled deeply. With his PATIENCE, he could tell he had many options before him: he could FLEE, he could show MERCY, he could FIGHT, or he could CALL FOR HELP. Knowing what was on the table, Henry let his gaze trail towards Charles, sitting on the table. The green soul radiated KINDNESS, and from that KINDNESS, Henry drew his DETERMINATION. He couldn’t die now; not when they were so close to a happy ending.

_File Saved._

Henry chose MERCY. Well, it worked for the small child, didn’t it?

“We don’t have to FIGHT.” He told the assassin before him. Eyes trained on that gun, he took a cautious step forward. “This camp is full of Government soldiers. Even if you kill me, you’ll never get out of here. They’ll capture you in a heartbeat. You’ll never see the light of day again.” Seeing no change in her, Henry risked another step forward. “But if you give up now, I’ll vouch for you. You’ll be pardoned and set free. Whatever riches they’ve promised you, it’s _not_ worth what you’ll lose if you go through with this.”

The gunwoman squinted her eyes at him, the first emotion she’d shown so far. Was this positive? Hell if Henry knew, but it was a change, at least. He took another step forward.

“...you’re an absolute moron...” The assassin concluded. A loud _bang_ echoed through the tent as she pulled the trigger and shot Henry point blank in the chest. Pain exploded through Henry as he flew backwards into the bookshelf, knocking down the wooden structure behind him. The woman stepped over him before looking down; he didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling condescendingly. “...if you actually thought that would work. Goodbye, Ambassador.

And she left, leaving Henry’s bleeding body on the ground. With gritted teeth, Henry reached for his SAVE.

_FAIL: Wow, rude much?_

_File Loaded._

Henry’s hands shook for a brief moment as a jolt of pain ran through his body. The hell? Was that some sort of magic gun? Normally when Henry loaded a SAVE, he was in the exact same physical condition as he had been when he’d first made it. That was how it’d always worked before. But this time a lingering ache was set in his chest. If there wasn’t a gun pointed at him, Henry would’ve tried to examine the spot that was aching, or try to rub it away.

Speaking of which, there was still a gun pointed at him. Henry should probably do something about that.

Henry chose to FIGHT.

He tensed for a brief moment, then rushed forward before the assassin could respond and socked her square in the face. He moved quickly, and had managed to catch her by surprise. The gun fell to the floor.

Bingo.

Immediately Henry kicked the gun away from the FIGHT, then focused all of his attention on the woman before him. She quickly recovered and growled at her opponent, launching herself directly at him. Prepared for this, Henry held his ground and managed not to fall over, withstanding two consecutive punches from the woman before launching one of his own, which the woman expertly dodged. Her jump ended with her flat on the floor, sweeping her legs to catch Henry’s and knock him down to the ground.

This shouldn’t have worked, but it was Henry, so of _course_ it worked.

Immediately the man fell to the ground. He groaned, but there wasn’t time to shake off the new aches added to his body; the assassin was already running for the gun, and she’d get it if Henry didn’t get off his ass.

He pushed himself up, and in a moment of brief brilliance, launched himself into a tackle instead of trying to run after her. He collided with her side, causing them both to tumble to the ground, with the girl pinning Henry. A fist found Henry’s eye before he could even respond, and Henry instinctively reacted by kicking the woman squarely in her chest, knocking her away.

She was back on her feet about the same time Henry was, and instantly the assassin charged at him with a closed fist, which Henry caught and roughly tossed back at her. She threw punches and kicks in his direction, all of which Henry carefully blocked until he managed to catch her foot. Their eyes met for only a second before Henry tightened his grip and _pulled_ , tossing her over his shoulder and into a piece of machinery in the background. A loud _crash_ echoed through the tent, and Henry wondered how nobody had heard their fighting yet. Was there simply nobody around?

The would-be assassin was deathly still. Henry doubted that toss would have been enough to take her down, so he approached with caution. There wasn’t anything Henry could really use to help him FIGHT, outside of the gun the assassin had dropped. Since he didn’t want to shoot her, all he could do was approach her carefully, body tensed, ready for her to leap up and pounce at him.

Instead, something invisible tightened around his neck. Henry only had a second to react before it tightened further, restricting his breathing and lifting him off the ground. What was this?

Henry’s rough hands flew instantly to his neck, attempting to pull whatever was chocking him away from his windpipe. Instead his hands only made contact with the air; air that had been thickened and changed, so that while it still had all the properties of air, it was also somehow solid enough to lift Henry off the ground and suffocate him. It was like the very air was… TRANSFORMED.

_TRANSFORMED. PERSEVERANCE. She knows magic. Shit._

Calmly, the assassin stood, her eyes subtly emitting a silent glow as she stood, her hand raised in the air towards Henry. She didn’t once turn away from Henry as she sidled around where he was chocking and levitating, unable to do anything.

The assassin picked up the gun, quickly examining it. She paused for a moment and peered at the entrance of the tent, at something Henry couldn’t see. “Damn it.” She quickly aimed her gun at Henry. “I’m out of time. You put up a good FIGHT, though. I’m almost sorry I have to kill you.” Her eyes narrowed, and Henry could only imagine the visions of riches that were dancing around in her head. “Almost.”

_BANG._

_FAIL: I can’t believe you chocked up like that!_

_File Loaded._

Something was wrong.

The pain in his chest had returned, except this time it was even _worse_. At this point Henry had realized that it wasn’t connected to the gunwoman’s weapon. She’d shot him in the head, leaving him barely enough time to reach for his SAVE before the sleep that followed death would’ve overtaken him. It was consistent and throbbing, and Henry gently gasped as he tried to breath through it.

Focus. He needed to focus.

Once again, Henry chose to FIGHT.

This time, however, instead of attempting to beat the living daylights out of his opponent, he’d get her gun and shoot her first. He didn’t want to, much to his own surprise, but if he got it first and shot her in the leg or somewhere else nonfatal, this could all be sorted out later. Like before, he leapt forward to sock her in the face, which would catch her off-guard and cause her to drop the gun-

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, the assassin grabbed his fist with one hand and twisted Henry’s arm hard, so hard it forced him down to his knees. He could _feel_ the bones in his arms straining against the pressure, and the air around them became TRANSFORMED into something heavier, forcing Henry down to his knees.

How? Last time that had caught her off guard and knocked the gun from her hands. Frustrated, Henry looked closely at her eyes, searching closely… and felt it. A strong DETERMINATION. Not stronger than her PERSEVERANCE, but strong enough. This wasn’t the first time Henry had encountered an individual like this. He’d faced a guard at the Wall who’d reacted similarly to his loading; the man had come at Henry guns blazing the first few times around, but after a couple of loads he’d instead taken cover and kept his distance, succeeding in avoiding the pain Henry had put the rest of the guards through.

From this experience, and a few similar, Henry had learned that any human with enough DETERMINATION could subconsciously remember his loading. Most of them wouldn’t understand what this feeling of deja vu was until they’d faced a few loads, but the assassin was a PERSEVERANCE soul. She would adapt to the changes in the timeline quicker than a soul with a different composition would, even if she didn’t consciously understand what was going on.

This was _bad._

“Say goodnight, Ambassador.” She said, then pulled the trigger again.

_FAIL: Goodnight, Ambassador!_

_File Loaded._

Was Henry having a heart attack? The pain had returned, and it was somehow even worse. Henry gasped and tightened his open hands into fists. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t _right_. What the hell was going on? It was bad enough that Henry’s stomach rolled in response. He had to get out of here, fast. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer.

Henry chose to FLEE.

Now, he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could just run and not get shot. He’d need a little assistance if he wanted to get out unscathed. That was where the smoke grenade came in.

Now, under normal circumstances Henry kept a vast supply of random gizmos and gadgets on his person at all time. Since he could jump around in time without consequence, Henry had learned the importance of having a variety of options available to him at all times. It was just unfortunate for him that his normal array of random machines was back in his tent, where they were useless to Henry. It made him want to curse out his past self, to grab him by the arms and shake him until his normally cautious brain kicked back into gear.

Still, past Henry wasn’t an entirely useless sod. He kept a variety of random knickknacks in the pockets of his coat and pants, just in case he lost his bag, and one of those mystery tools just happened to be a smoke grenade that would perfectly cover Henry’s escape.

So, with a devilish grin, Henry brought one hand down to his pocket, reaching inside for the round device.

“HEY!” Called the assassin. She discharged her gun, once, but Henry managed to duck out of the way of the shot. He quickly threw the grenade onto the ground and the whole tent filled with opaque white smoke. Through it Henry could here the woman coughing, but focused instead on making his escape.

There was only one thing in the entire tent bright enough to shine through the fog. Henry used Charles as his guiding point, carefully fumbling his way through the maze of beds and machinery that was the good Doctor’s room and landing at the table Charles was sitting on. It was… too risky to bring Charles with him. It would be safer for both of them to leave Charles here for now. Worse come to pass, he could always go back to his last SAVE again.

At the very least, Henry knew that the table was directly across from the tent’s entrance. He placed a hand on the glass of the container, letting the KINDNESS soak into him for a moment and silently promising to be back as soon as possible. With a crazed gunwoman in the area, he didn’t dare make any sounds.

Instead, he silently crept across the expanse between the doorway and the table. If everything had gone according to plan, he would have burst out of the tent, gone to get a soldier with an actual weapon to deal with his attempted murderer, and leave this in the hands of somebody else for once. Unfortunately, he was Henry Stickmin. Plans tended to fall apart in his presence.

Which explained why, instead of bursting through the tent’s entrance flap, Henry managed to collide face first into his attempted murderer. Before he could react, she smacked him in the face with her gun, making a painful crunching sound, and sent him falling to the floor. Blood poured from Henry’s face; judging from the pain, he suspected she broke his nose, but that was the least of his problems right now.

“Clever.” The assassin standing over him mumbled. “Ve~ery clever.”

“Ma’am, please,” He begged, one last time, “Don’t do this. Is there _anything_ I can do to talk you out of this?”

This made her look thoughtful. “Got a cool million lying around?”

Sweat poured down Henry’s face. Goddammit, why did they make him surrender his diamond money when he got his pardon?

“Thought not.” The assassin cocked her gun and shot Henry squarely in the face.

_FAIL: The point of running away is to run AWAY from the enemy, not TOWARDS them._

_File Loaded._

The pain was _unbearable_.

Once Henry was back, he instantly doubled over, clutching at his burning chest with both hands. It felt like his insides were tearing themselves apart. He was full-on nauseous now, barely managing to keep the single slice of toast he’d had for breakfast down. His arms and legs shook with the effort of holding his body upright, and it was only through sheer force of DETERMINATION that he wasn’t rolling around on the floor. He hissed with every breath he took.

The assassin looked thoroughly unimpressed by the (from her perspective) sudden change in her presumed target. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad for you,” She said, voice quiet but firm, “It isn’t going to work.”

As if things hadn’t already been bad enough. Even if Henry was still standing, he knew that he barely hanging on to consciousness. Would he be able to load his SAVE if he failed this time? Given how bad the pain already was, Henry doubted it. He couldn’t FIGHT like this. He couldn’t FLEE like this. In reality, there was only one thing left he could do.

Henry chose to CALL FOR HELP.

First he inhaled deeply, taking in as much air as he could. Then Henry called out to the world, to anybody who was listening. “HELP!” He yelled as loudly as he could manage. His throat ached from the force of his own screaming, and the sound of his blaring voice added to the throbbing in his temples. Still, Henry continued to call out. “SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He W A K E S.
> 
> Next Chapter: Sven makes a new friend. :D


	11. "It's Rude To Talk About Someone Who's Listening..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad Things Happen: Toppat Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Anxiety Attack, Vomiting, Possession, uh... hypnotism? Mind manipulation? IDK something along those lines.

Sven’s peaceful slumber was interrupted by firm hands shaking him harshly. He groaned, rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep, but the hands were incredibly persistent.

“Sven!” The familiar voice of Burt penetrated the hazy cloud of slumber, further dragging Sven back to the world of the living. “Sven, come on, wake up! The Boss is missing!”

Any semblence of slumber left the Swedish man in a heartbeat, and Sven scrambled to get out of bed. “He’s _WHAT?!_ ”

“The Right Hand Man.” Burt clarified. His posture was calm, but his face was hard as stone. “I woke up an hour ago and couldn’t find him anywhere. The Chief’s still here,” He gestured to one of the nearby beds, where the Chief was still lying, “but I’ve searched the entire lab top to bottom and the Right Hand Man is MIA. He’d never leave the Chief behind.” Burt huffed. “The Flower’s gone too. I bet it lured the boss somewhere. We need to go find him.”

No time for cleaning up, then. Sven hopped out of bed and pulled on his backpack. When he turned around to ask Burt where they should start, he found his friend pulling the Chief out of bed too. “Uhh…” Sven quirked a brow, “Should we really be dragging the Chief around like this?”

  
“Don’t think it’s smart to leave him here by himself.” Burt answered, struggling to hold the Chief upright. After a moment of hesitation, Sven wrapped one arm around the Chief from the opposite side of Burt, and the two acted as crutches for the man before waddling their way through the labs. Having only been through the parts of the Lab Flowey had guided them to, Sven had absolutely no idea where they were heading, but eventually they ended up in front of an elevator. Burt told him, “Pretty sure this leads to another part of the Underground. Might as well check it out.”

The Elevator only had two stops: the laboratory they were in and one on a top floor somewhere else. It felt like the ride up took forever, but eventually they heard that little ‘ding!’ and flooded out into what appeared to be another lab, albeit one that seemed a little more… lived in, for lack of a better term. There was a mess of empty ramen packages and crushed cans of various beverages on the nearby desk, and various papers and items were scattered all across the floor and room, as if somebody had been rifling through them in a hurry and had let them remain where they fall.

Or they could have been the results of Flowey the Flower hurling white energy pellets at their boss. That was also on the table.

“I knew it.” Burt whispered harshly. Before Sven could react at all, the other man drew his pistol and fired once at the flower, the bullet grazing one of its petals. Flowey ducked low with an expression that could almost be fearful on its face, before it turned into an annoyed glare.

“Um, EXCUSE me.” The Flower spat out at Burt. “We were TRAINING here.”

The Toppat Enforcer had also swivelled around at the sound of shots being fired. His eyes narrowed at the sight of his husband perched up on their shoulders. He snapped at them, “Whot the bloody ‘ell do you two t’ink yer doin’, forcin ‘im outta bed?”

Ruby red eyes pierced daggers into Sven’s soul with a single stare. Logically, Sven knew he was annoyed at both of them, but couldn’t help but feel like the Right Hand meant _him_ in specific. Through his shot nerves, Sven answered, “I- uh, sorry, we got worried when we couldn’t find you, and we didn’t want to leave the Chief alone, so…”

He didn’t look any less pissed off, but the tension in the Right Hand’s shoulders faded as he mumbled his reluctant acceptance.

“So, does monster training always required attempted homocide?” Burt asked skeptically, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. The sight of stress lines on his best friend’s face was unusual to Sven, and he surprised himself with the desire to reach over and smooth them out.

Flowey took the accusation with surprising grace, merely rolling its eyes as Burt. It responded plainly, “Well, you don’t get better at DODGING by reading about it, do ya? Besides, I’ve been trying to get Big Guy over here to figure out how to use time magic to SAVE, and he’s been remarkably stubborn about NOT getting it.”

“’Cause it don’t make any goddamn sense! Ya keep goin’ on an’ on ‘bout ‘bein’ determined in the moment’ and ‘reachin’ for yer save’, but ya never explain how the fuck I’m supposed ta do that.” The Right Hand Man threw his hands up in defeat. “Yer a terrible teacher, Flower Boy.”

“Because it’s soooo obvious! Every other DETERMINATION-type soul I’ve met got it without any help!” Flowey scrunched it’s face up, which without a nose looked fairly uncanny. “I can show you the basics, but I can’t fix stupidity.”

The Right Hand cast a sideways glance, but otherwise didn’t argue, which was unusual for him. Looking closer, Sven noticed deep, dark circles under the older man’s red eyes, and when he blinked, his eyes stayed close for a moment before forcing themselves open a little too quickly.

“Sir…” Sven almost reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, then stopped himself. Even at the best of times, which these clearly weren’t, the Right Man hated contact with people that weren’t his husband. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Wot?” The Right Hand Man blinked in genuine confusion before finally comprehending Sven’s question. “’Course I did. Got plenty.”

The flower poked his arm, obviously unimpressed. “You got, like, one hour. Maybe.”

“’At’s plenty.” The concern being pushed his way was brushed aside by the Right Hand Man. “Reg is all that matters right now. If I wanna ‘elp ‘im, I need to learn more about this magic bollucks. Figurin’ out how these traits work is ‘is only chance.” For a moment, the Right Hand’s eyes glazed over as he became lost in thought. “And the quickest way to understand them is learning magic.”

“And that’s going so well.” Flowey mumbled under its breath. Then it looked up and said, a little louder, “Maybe one of you will have better luck. Blue Boy, come here.”

Sven pointed at himself questioningly.

“Is anyone _else_ here wearing blue, genius?” The flower quipped back with a roll of its eyes. “Now come here.” Hesitantly, Sven took a few steps towards the flower. Burt was right; there was something really off about the little thing. It was only the presence of his previous Right Hand at his back that Sven was able to keep calm. Once he was close enough, Flowey pulled Sven’s soul from his chest, and as it hovered it cast a rich blue light over all of them. Without much else to do, Sven cradled the little blue heart in his hands and waited for instructions.

A hand gently clasped Sven’s shoulder; firm, but not so strong that he couldn’t break out of it if he really wanted to. Burt’s monotone voice spoke to him. “You don’t have to do this.”

So he said, but all it took was one glance at the Chief to strengthen Sven’s resolve. The DT injection from yesterday was keeping him from deteriorating further, but the damage was already done. His soul was in shambles, and it was Sven’s duty to heal him as best he could. He had to take responsibility for the things he’d done wrong as chief; the carelessness once they were in space, the reckless and ill-thought out jailbreak, the DT crystal’s explosion… it was all his fault. That meant he had to fix it, no matter what it took. It was his duty as a Toppat. It was his responsibility as the Chief’s pupil. It’s who Sven was.

He was filled with INTEGRITY.

Sven shook Burt off and stood before Flowey. “I’m ready.”

“You humans are always so dramatic.” Flowey rolled its eyes. “Alright, so INTEGRITY. Spacial manipulation. Gravity. Force. That kinda stuff. Okay, in order to pull that off, you need to harness your INTEGRITY. You need to hold on to who you are, and use that as a grounding point as you manipulate the world around you. Easy, right?”

“Oh yeah, sure, simple as Ikea.” Burt remarked.

But as Sven gazed upon the INTEGRAL light of his own soul, he suddenly understood. The world changed, and it would continue to change, but the things he loved would always remain the same. His time in the Toppats, his friendship with Burt… these things would always be with him, even if only in memory. And with his confidence in that, Sven could make himself unmovable. Once he knew that, he noticed a painfully familiar yellow glow, except instead of SAVE, the word in front of him was SHIFT. Sven reached out, tapped the word, and…

And the world SHIFTED.

His hand shimmered blue as the world around Sven turned. He stayed on the floor, safe and sound, but Burt and the Right Hand Man screamed bloody murder as they flew up towards the ceiling. Flowey stayed rooted to the floor, though not from lack of trying. It was simply too deeply imbedded for the sudden SHIFT of gravity to affect it. The only negative was that the Chief also went tumbling up, and the Right Hand was only barely able to catch him before he hit the ceiling.

“Uh… SORRY!” Sven yelled up. He then turned to Flowey, who was positively beaming at him. “H-how do I get them down…?”

“Oh, you can’t!” Flowey replied cheerfully. It stretched up towards him, its stem extending as it got closer to his face. “They’ll be stuck up there forever and ever…”

“STOP FUCKIN’ AROUN’, FLOWER BOY!” The Right Hand Man shouted down at them. His tired eyes were narrowed into an unimpressed glare, and the arm that wasn’t holding onto his husband was resting on his hip.

Flowey rolled its beady red eyes. “Fine…” It grumbled. “Just SHIFT them again. Make slow motions with your body so that the gravity will become lighter, so they don’t end up hurt. Remember, you’re the core that the world is SHIFTING around, so gravity and force will take their cues from you.”

The world SHIFTED again, and as Flowey suggested, Sven gently lowered his arm from above his head to down below his knees. The blue glow of his hands felt softer this time, lighter. With the slow motions of his arms, Sven delivered his companions safely onto the ground.

“Holy heck.” Burt whispered. “That was crazy!”

“That’s INTEGRITY!” Flowey chirped up happily, then turned to the Right Hand Man. “See? SOME people know how to properly listen.”

The Right Hand Man glared half-heartedly at Flowey, but didn’t respond.

“So, that just leaves-” Flowey was already turning away towards Burt, but the communications specialist interrupted him.

“Yeah, quick question,” Burt sauntered up closer to Flowey, both hands in his pockets. Anyone on the outside might say that Burt was the picture of calm, but Sven knew better. His eyes were a little too focused, his shoulders a little too stiff. Subtle little hints that Burt was a little closer to the edge than he wanted them to think. “Where did you learn all this? Now, I could imagine you’d get some of that from those books, like what the soul traits are, but how do you know EXACTLY how each trait can use magic? It’s a lot for one monster to figure out, and a lot of the information downstairs is in terrible condition. Borderline illegible. So, Flowey,” Burt leaned in closer, and smiled darkly, “how come you know so much about human souls?”

That day, Sven learned that a flower can sweat. Apparently.

“Well I… I just know things, okay?” Flowey huffed, looking away with a pout. “Why are you arguing with me? I’m _helping_ you!”

“Are you? Are you _really?_ ” Burt inquired sharply. “’Cause all you’re doing is dodging my questions. And speaking of questions, what are you doing down here, anyways? All the other monsters left for the surface. Why would anyone want to stay down here all by themselves? Don’t you have any family or friends?”

The mention of family set something off in Flowey; its petals bristled angrily as its face stretched into a furious smirk, its eyes bulging out of its tiny… head? Face? Whatever it was. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Headphones.” It snarled, its voice becoming distorted and deeper in its fury.

“’At’s _enough_ , Burt.” The Right Hand Man scolded. “Flowey’s goin’ out of his way to save our chief. You will show ‘im due respect!”

If the Right Hand was aiming to do anything but redirect Burt’s ire, then he failed miserably. The shortest of the humans spun around to face him with tranquil fury radiating from his soul. “Show respect to that _monster_? You know the missing kids from Ebott City didn’t just fall off the face of the Earth, right?” Burt’s eyes trailed back to the flower for just a moment, and once again Sven was struck with the urge to smooth the worry from Burt’s normally carefree face. If he were braver, he might have done that, if only to end the fight that was brewing up. Instead, Sven kept back as Burt continued. “For all we know, this is a long con the flower’s running so it can steal our souls later, or something!”

“Yer actin’ a fool, _Curtis_.” The Right Hand spat out Burt’s last name like one might spit out a sour grape. “If Flower Boy really wanted us dead, ‘e’s ‘ad plety of opportunity to kill us three times over by now. Yer lettin’ wot ‘appeneed with yer little friend cloud yer judgement, makin’ ya act irrationally.”

Burt openly scoffed at that. “Oh, like you’re one to talk.”

If possible, the Right Hand Man’s scowl deepened further. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been treating Sven like trash since we broke you out of prison!” Accused Burt. “Sven’s gone above and beyond for the clan since he became Chief! He deciphered Chief Reginald’s plans for the rocket! He got it built despite all the setbacks losing the airship put us through! He’s been bending over backwards to protect you both since the Incident. But somehow, all anyone ever talks about is how he’s messed up, even though literally NONE of what happened since the Station went up is his fault!” Burt huffed, his entire face contorting with the force of his scowl.

“Wot ‘appened at the prison-” The Right Hand Man tried to cut in, but was cut off by Burt.

“ALSO wasn’t Sven’s fault. He didn’t ask to be shot at, and he sure as hell didn’t ask the Chief to save him! That was REGINALD’S choice.” Burt gave their boss the most condescending sneer Sven had ever seen. “Not that it matters to you. The Chief can’t be allowed to make his _own_ choices, right? He can’t even be around strawberry-scented _shampoo_ without you wigging out. If I had a husband who kept dismissing my autonomy, I’d make reckless decisions just to have a say, too.”

That last sentence was much softer than the rest of Burt’s rant, but it somehow stung the most. From somewhere nearby, Flowey made a hissing noise, as if burned.

Scared or not, Sven couldn’t let this continue. He marched up to Burt and grabbed onto his shoulder, telling him, “That’s enough, Burt.”

Burt shrugged him off.

“Why you-” The Right Hand Man’s entire face was a deep, angry red now. His eyes burned through Burt with an incredible intensity. “You think you can speak to yer _Actin’_ _Chief_ like ‘at?”

Burt looked him dead in the eye, no fear in those deep purple irises. “Please. After what I did to even come on this trip? We both know I’m screwed. There’s no way I can continue being a Toppat after that stunt.”

...what? Burt wouldn’t be a Toppat anymore?

But then… what would happen to their friendship? There was no way Sven could ever _leave_ the Toppat Clan. It was all he knew. If Burt left, it would be too dangerous to keep in contact. They’d drift apart, and Burt would find someone else to be his best friend. Someone more charming, someone better looking, someone who _wasn’t_ the biggest screw up on the planet.

“So wot? Yer just desertin’, then? Not gonna face yer end like a real man?” Their superior spoke with a perpetual scowled. “Shoulda figured. Ya talkin’ a big game ‘ere, but ya know what ya are? A fuckin’ coward.” He approached Burt, staring down into his eyes. “Sven messin’ with tha’ magic gem was reckless. Irresponsible, even. But the truth of the matter is if ya were any good at yer job – the job _I’d_ been doin’ fer years – ‘e wouldn’t ‘ave been anywhere _near_ ‘at prison.” The piercing red glare of the Right Hand Man intensified. “Yer a coward, Curtis. Poshley was right. The Toppats’ are history because of _you._ ”

If Sven had been in his right mind, he might have tried to defend Burt, but his mind hyperfocused on that last sentence. _The Toppats’ are history_. This might not have fazed him coming from anybody else, but this was the Right Hand Man. The Clan’s Enforcer, its strongest supporter. And here he was, telling them the Clan was doomed. Sven’s breath quickened. What would he do if there wasn’t a Toppat Clan? It was all he’d done, all he’d known. All he was. He’d put his heart and soul into the Clan. It couldn’t just be _gone_. What would he do? Where would he go? There- there wasn’t anything else out there for him. He’d have nothing. He’d _be_ nothing. He- He’d-

“Blue...?” Flowey cautiously whispered, its voice barely audible over the loud arguing still going on. “You okay there, buddy?”

His words didn’t quite get through. Sven knew somebody was speaking to him, but couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind those sounds. He could barely even hear the fighting anymore over the sounds of his own breathing, his own heartbeat. Why was everything so loud? Why was the light of the lab so bright, but the light of his soul so weak? Why couldn’t he stop shaking?

Why wouldn’t they JUST STOP?!

The screams were what jolted Sven out of his funked state of mind. His arms were raised (when had he raised them) and everyone around him was caught in a tornado of blue energy, spinning in quick circles with him as the center. Hats had flown off, papers were soaring, and even Flowey, who had been firmly anchored into the ground, had been sucked into the swirling vortex of SHIFTED energy.

“Sven?!” Burt called out, his eyes widened in an unfamiliar gesture of fear. Seeing his unflappable friend in distress only made the tornado spin faster.

At the sight of Sven’s shaking hands, Flowey immediately called down, “No, No! Don’t panic! Just lower your arms to set us down!” Sven dropped his arms, only realizing his mistake when Flowey screamed, “NOT LIKE THAT!” and everyone was sent flying away from Sven. Burt hit a table, which made a crunching noise as it broke under his weight. The Right Hand Man rolled as he collided with the floor, groaning when he finally came to a stop. Flowey gripped at a hanging light with its vines, managing to save itself. And the Chief… their poor Chief flew backwards, into a wall. Other than the loud thumping sound of his body hitting the hard cement wall and flying down, the Chief tumbled down to the ground and stayed there, deathly still.

“No…” Sven whispered as he watched the Right Hand Man immediately run to the other man’s side, his breathing quickening again. He’d hurt the Chief. He’d been learning magic to help the poor man, and instead he hurt him again. Why couldn’t he do anything right?! Why couldn’t he just control his goddamned emotions?!

Sven took one step back. Then another. Then sprinted into the Hotlands, ignoring the sound of his name being called frantically behind him.

As Burt ran off, calling Sven’s name in a frantic panic, the Right Hand Man collapsed to the ground beside his freshly-bandaged husband. Jesus Christ, this mission was already off to a _fantastic_ start.

“Hey.” Flowey emerged from the ground on the Right Hand’s other side, peering up at him with big, doe eyes. “You doing okay, Big Guy?”

“Fuck do ya think, Flower Boy?” He spat, but there was no bite to his words. The rage he had felt so passionately earlier had shriveled up and died, leaving the Right Hand feeling empty and anxious. He bowed his head and held it in his hands, blinking away the dark blur of sleep that crept into his vision.

They sat in silence for a long second. Eventually Flowey spoke up again. “So that was pretty crazy right? Man, poor Blue.”

The Right Hand Man quirked his brow at Flowey. “Sven nearly got us all killed. _Again._ ”

“Lemme tell you a lil’ something about magic.” Flowey responded. “You see, with monsters, their physical bodies and souls are far, far weaker than humans. But they can use magic a hell of a lot easier. In fact, it’s so easy for them that they can perform magic without even thinking about it. It’s an emotional response, like smiling when you’re happy or crying when you’re sad. A kid I knew once got so excited at one point that he set his sibling’s shirt on fire. Heh,” Flowey smiled bitterly, then proceeded. “It’s rarer for humans to lose control of their magic like that, because magic doesn’t come as intuitively to them. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. If a human is so overwhelmed by an emotion that it shakes them to their core, then they’ll lose control.” Flowey then turned to look him dead in the eye. “And you guys were really overwhelming him.”

“I… see.” The Right Hand glanced off to the side. “So ‘at’s why ‘at ‘appened.”

Flowey’s eyes narrowed in on him. “You know, I think I’ve figured out why you can’t SAVE.” This brought the Right Hand’s full attention to him. “You’re focusing your DETERMINATION in entirely the wrong way. You’re focusing on the past, on your anger, so you don’t have to acknowledge how bad your situation makes you feel. You aren’t living in the present.”

“The present sucks.” Right Hand Man said simply. His mind focused on the warmth of Reg sitting next to him, and blocked out the gray emptiness of his eyes, the limpness of his hand when held in the Right Hand’s own.

“I agree.” Flowey nodded. “Your present does suck. That’s why you need to focus your DETERMINATION outward, so you can make it better. You can put all the effort you want into trying to SAVE Twinhat, but unless you detangle your DETERMINATION from your anger, you won’t be able to put your all into helping him.”

“Everyt’ing I’ve _GOT_ goes inta ‘elping Reg.” The Right Hand Man spoke through gritted teeth, his newly rekindled anger coursing through his joints, making his body tense. “Ya think it’s that simple? Ta just… let _go_ of wot ‘appened? Those _irresponsible_ brats nearly cost me…” His clan, his life’s work, the love of his life, “...everything. Maybe they don’ deserve all the blame, but I don’t know what else to _do_.” Tears of frustration prickled at the corners of the Right Hand Man’s eyes, and in his distracted state one fell before he got himself together. “There ‘as to be _someone_ to blame, _something_ responsible for all this. If it’s nobody’s fault- if it’s just _destiny-_ it can’t just be. It just _can’t_!”

The Right Hand’s breath hitched, and his hands shook, but every muscle in his body suddenly halted at the presence of a familiar weight baring into his side. Slowly, carefully, the Right Hand swiveled his head to look at Reginald, who was now leaning into his side, his head resting in the crook of his beloved’s neck. It had to have been an accident. Reg could already barely hold himself up, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d fall over. But it was strange… it almost felt like Reg was nuzzling up to him.

Just a cruel trick of fate, he supposed. Still, the familiar presence of his husband by his side did steady the Right Hand’s heartbeat and cleared his mind. Even like this, Reginald always seemed to know just what he needed.

God, he missed his husband.

“...I gotcha. Just, ya know, try and redirect that energy into the present. Even if what happened is some sort of messed up destiny, DETERMINATION is the power to change fate itself.” Flowey offered a smile, and despite himself, the Right Hand smiled back. “Alrighty, let’s not worry about magic right now. We’ll work on that later, when things aren’t so… heated. It should be safe to extract more DT from you right now, so let’s go do that, just to have some extra, okay?

The Right Hand nodded. “Okay.”

Sven didn’t know how long he had been running for, or how far he had gotten. The Hotlands were, true to their name, quite hot, and the heat closed in on Sven from all sides. Burt’s voice had long since been lost in the labyrinth of the Underground. With nobody around to stop him, Sven fell to his knees and wailed.

Oh god. What had he done? What the _hell_ had he done?

When Flowey had called him forward, when he realized that with a simple grasp of his INTEGRITY, Sven could use magic, he’d felt like maybe, finally, he could do something right. His magic could help him understand INTEGRITY, and with that knowledge he could awaken it within his Chief’s soul. Instead, he’d nearly killed him a second time. As if Sven hadn’t screwed the poor man over enough.

Despair overcame Sven, and he sobbed on the ground until there were no tears left in him to shed. It was then, when he was at his lowest, that the Shadow appeared. It wasn’t human, clearly, but that was all Sven could say for sure about it. Towering above Sven, with a large, singular pupil staring blankly down at him, the Shadow seemed to have no other distinguishing features. It was just a lump of pitch black darkness, like the night sky above a light-polluted cityscape.

“You poor thing…” It spoke, it’s words seeming to distort and echo in the caves, even though the cavern wasn’t quite large enough for that. It leaned a little closer, and Sven backed away. “What’s wrong?”

It’s eye peered down at Sven, judging him. Without a mouth or any other discernible features, it was hard to tell what the Shadow was feeling, but Sven opened up anyways. The weight on his soul was heavy, and at this point he just needed to get it out. “I… did something terrible.” Sven confessed. “I was supposed to save my Chief, and instead I… broke him. His soul is in pieces because of me. It isn’t working, and when I tried to help I only made things worse.” Sven hugged himself as tight as he could. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I _can_ do.”

“Hmm…” It twisted around him. “So you want to fix a soul, do you? I think we may be able to help you with that.” It got closer to his face, and Sven looked up into its bulbous eye. Staring directly into it, Sven saw his reflection glimmer with a strange, calming light. “The previous Royal Scientist was an expert: even more so than the current one. He’s a little hard to get a hold of, but I happen to know the right people. If you want, I can arrange a meeting.”

“Previous royal scientist?” Sven questioned with a sniffle.

“You don’t know?” It asked. “The King of all Monsters employed a Royal Scientist to break us free of the Barrier, so we no longer had to wait for seven human souls to stumble upon our prison. The good Doctor Gaster was a brilliant man, beyond compare. The first of us to escape the Barrier, in a way. If only his experiments hadn’t... Oh, but I needn’t gossip.” Its eye grew wider. “After all, _**it’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening.**_ ”

Sven immediately clapped his hands over his ears. It felt like those words had penetrated his ear drums, leaving a continuous ringing in his skull.

“Come along, Sven.” It stepped back, away from the tearful human. “If we want to meet with the good Doctor, we mustn’t dawdle. He can be… finicky. Especially when you’re running late.”

Basic instinct told Sven to run. There was something off about this thing, even in comparison to Flowey. But as it looked down at Sven with that kind, piercing gaze, he found his feet moving before his brain could comprehend. didn’t occur to Sven at all to ask how the Shadow knew his name. They had an appointment to keep, after all!

They walked through the underground together, the Shadow and Sven. Their path took them deeper and deeper into the Hotlands, bringing them through twisting tunnels and strange darkened corridors that got grayer and less defined the further they got from the lab. A part of Sven, the logical part that sounded suspiciously like Burt, urged him to run, to save himself while he still could, but he powered through that panic with experienced expertise. The Shadow’s form had seemed to get more solid as they walked, resembling a bird with its wings and its break. When it would look back at Sven, the light glistening off its eye reassured him that it was alright. He was more than capable of fighting back if push came to shove, but the Shadow clearly meant him no harm. After all, how could someone with such a sincere gaze ever hurt him?

At long last, they came to a wide open door. More shadow people stood inside, facing his direction with darkness hiding their eyes. Sven inhaled deeply and took a step forward.

A harsh tug of his vest stopped him, for just a moment. Sven looked down to see a small gray child looking up at him with impossibly sad eyes.

“Don’t go in there.” They pleaded.

“Children are best seen and not heard.” The voice of Sven’s new friend spoke, using its giant… head?… to push the child back.

Sven offered the child his widest, most sincere smile. “I’ll be just fine, sweetie.” He promised them. When he looked at their eyes, he found himself reminded of Burt, who had, in those early days when Sven was still new to being an Elite, watched him be ferried off to meetings and lessons with pensive eyes on his otherwise unaffected face. “If you see a guy with headphones wandering around, send him my way, okay? I don’t want him to worry too much.”

He waved at the child one final time before walking into the room. The Shadows were waiting for him. Like his first friend, their expressions were grayed and dulled, with only certain features being visible in the darkness: a crooked smile, a pair of deathly white eyes, and so on. Despite this, they welcomed Sven’s presence with wide open arms. One of them clasped him on the shoulder, maybe a little too tightly, but Sven followed as it steered him towards a bench on one side of the room with a single concern. Why would he be concerned? They were here to help him. They only wanted what was best for him.

“So,” Sven asked, properly seated with his new friends hovering over him. Something tingled in the back of his head, telling him to run, but he brushed it off, “Doctor Gaster?”

“Before that,” One of the Shadows told him cheerfully, “A story.” All three of them glided around him, making circles around his sitting form. “Once upon a time, the Royal Scientist of the Underground was a brilliant man known as _**Doctor W.D. Gaster.**_ He was as cunning as he was DETERMINED. He knew that it was unlikely seven humans would stumble into the Underground before his untimely demise, so he vowed to find another way to reach the surface. Unlike our dearest Doctor Alphys, though, his plan wasn’t to break the Barrier.

“His plan was to find a way _**around**_ it.”

The circling increased in speed. Sven tried to keep up, but watching them was making him dizzy. There was a chronic pounding in his brain from the odd tones of their voices.

“To do so, he performed experiments to force time to bend to his will.” Another one of the Shadows said. It was difficult to tell them apart, and trying made Sven’s head fuzzy. “Perhaps he intended to go backwards, to a time before the Barrier existed? Or perhaps he intended to go forward, to a time after the Barrier was broken? Regardless of his intentions, his experiments were _brutal_. They went on day and night, and he never slept. He built the core, the source of power for all the Underground. He crafted the means to keep souls stable until the time came when they were needed.

“Then, one day, his experiments went wrong. The brilliant Doctor vanished without a trace. He fell into his creation, and was never heard from again. The world went on without him. It forgot him. _**But the good Doctor didn’t die**_. He was torn asunder, scattered across space and time, his mortal life cut short in this world… but he still exists. Scattered across space and time, a sentient being existing everywhere and knowing everything… no, he didn’t die. _**He became a god.**_ ”

All of the Shadows paused and turned to face Sven. Even though he could tell they were staring directly at him, their invisible eyes piercing into his soul, Sven knew that they wouldn’t hurt him. They were his friends. They were excited to help him.

“So how does one ask a god for help?” Sven asked. His own voice sounded distant and far off to him.

They had no faces, but the Shadows seemed to get excited at the question. “The good Doctor has no anchor in this world.” One of them informed him. This one only had a large smile to tell it apart from the others “No point where he can truly focus his energy. In order to summon his conscious here, we need to things: firstly, we need a piece of the good Doctor… which I happen to have right here.” It pulled… _something_ from the shadows, something that pulsed and oozed.

“The second thing we need,” Said a different Shadow. “is something to anchor him to. Something strong. Something… with vast INTEGRITY.”

“Integrity?” Sven questioned. “You mean something really strong? Like a metal pole?” They continued to stare at him, not saying anything. “Or… do you mean this kind of INTEGRITY?” Sven called his soul into the open. Despite the strong blue light that poured from it, the faces of the shadows were still indistinguishable.

They grew excited at the sight of his soul. One of them vibrated in elation. Another came closer to him. “That’s it! That’s it! Now, don’t be afraid, my dearest Sven… _**accept Gaster into your soul.**_ ”

The Shadow was in front of him before Sven could comprehend that it moved. Without further warning, it raised its hand, the one containing the sludge-like piece of Gaster, and pushed it _directly into Sven’s soul._

It _burned._ It hurt like nothing Sven had ever felt before. The pale sludge melted into the blue light of Sven’s soul and soaked through the opaque INTEGRITY. As it fused into the culmination of his being, Sven’s physical body began to react. His arms twitched and convulsed as _something_ slithered through his muscles, a sensation like bugs crawling over his skin. The burning pain radiated through his organs, and there was an immense pressure in his chest. It pressed down against his lungs, making him gasp for air. The pain made him gag. When he bent over to throw up, what came out of him was thick, black goop that stuck to the ground and his mouth. His body grew uncomfortably hot all over.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. What was wrong with him?! Why had he thought this would be a good idea?!

**Hush, little one. It will all be over soon.**

The voice echoed harshly through his skull. Sven held his head as he sobbed. The black goop fusing into his soul shifted, and it felt like something was slithering through his body, over his bones and under his skin. What was happening to him?

Then the piece of Gaster reached the center of his soul. It glowed a sickly gray colour, and the pain intensified. Sven retched one final time, and then passed out.

“...Sven…! Sven! SVEN!”

A hand violently jerking his shoulder jolted Sven back into the world of the living. When he looked up, it was not any of the Shadows that greeted him, but Burt. He looked fairly panicked. Was it because of the heat? It was so hot… Sven felt warm and clammy and achy all over.

“Jesus, did you get heat stroke or something?” Burt yanked him up to his feet. “We need to get you somewhere cooler. Hang on, I’ve got you.” Burt offered him a smile, though it quickly fell. “Listen, about what happened earlier…”

“It’s fine.” Sven waved him off. “We can talk about it later. Right now I feel…” Sven paused a little as the heat and persistent aches made him dizzy. “...awful.”

Burt nodded, and the began to make their way back.

Had that really been all the Shadows and Gaster were? Just a heat induced nightmare?

**Oh, my child. Have you so little faith?**

Sven’s only saving grace was that he was too exhausted to jump in fear. As it was, he went stiff and held his breath at the painfully familiar voice. This made Burt look up at him in alarm, and after a brief moment spent calming his best friend down, Sven finally persuaded Burt to keep moving.

Was that… Gaster?

**DOCTOR W.D Gaster, thank you very much. I did not complete twelve years of schooling just to be greeted like a common plebian.**

So that had all been real. Sven was very tempted to summon his soul and see the piece of Gaster lodged in their for himself, but refrained out of fear of scaring Burt further.

**A wise move, my child. After all, we can hardly aid your fading friend if my existence comes to light now. Best keep it quiet, at least until we’ve successfully healed Chief Reginald.**

How had he known all that?

**I know everything, Sven. I know how you fought so desperately to SAVE the Toppat clan, to SAVE your Chief… but despite everything, your best just wasn’t good enough. You FAILED, over and over and over again. That’s alright. I know exactly what to do.**

...you do?

**Indeed I do. My mind exists in all corners of the universe, and my knowledge and magic has expanded beyond comprehension. I know just what your poor, dying Chief needs. With my knowledge, and your powerful soul, we can fix everything. We’ll change your Chief’s soul, so he is exactly how he was before. We’ll change the Toppat Clan, so they’ll welcome you back with open arms and forget your mistakes. Your homecoming will be a call for celebration. Your Chief will hug you and tell you he’s proud of you. And how could your dearest Burt ever want to leave the side of someone so heroic?**

**You’ll have everything you ever wanted. All I ask in return… is for your help returning to this world.**

Despite himself, Sven smiled. Maybe there was hope for the Chief yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure only good things will come of this.
> 
> In the meanwhile, now that Gaster's been revealed, I think that's all the major characters. About time, it's only eleven chapters in.
> 
> And a fun fact that might interest you: the file name for the in-chapter illustration in Chapter 1 is "It'll only hurt for a bit". The file name for this chapter's illustration is "iTlL oNlY hUrT fOr A bIt". Obviously, those are both complete lies.


	12. Awakened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I think we're all asking the same question after last time:
> 
> How is Frisk's summit going?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get an extra illustration this chapter. As a treat. (I think they turned out really good this time!)

**Finally being able to do what needs to be done fills you with DETERMINATION.**

Lady Toriel and Ambassador Frisk entered the meeting room hand in hand, not as mother and child but as spokespeople for all of monsterkind. The humans were all already there; sat in a neat line at one side of the table laid out for them, with a man Frisk vaguely recognized as the mayor sitting in the center. They towered above Frisk, and the child was vaguely reminded of cartoons where the hero was brought before a panel of old, withered judges with dark scowls to be tried. At the opposite side of their table were a number of chairs, one of which was occupied by King Asgore, who greeted them with a sheepish wave. Toriel politely nodded at him, pushing aside her old animosities for the moment.

General Galeforce, seated neutrally between the council and the monsters, stood up and gestured towards the new arrivals. “Ah, there you are. Please take a seat.” Toriel calmly walked over and took a seat one chair away from Asgore, while Frisk hopped up into the chair between them. As they sat, Mister Galeforce continued. “This is the former Queen Toriel, who has been very active in the monster community and is one of their most respected and powerful-”

“Excuse me, General,” The mayor interrupted with a tone of disbelief and minor annoyance, “What is this _human child_ doing in this camp?!”

Frisk opened their mouth, about to protest, but Chief Counselor Mitchell beat them to it with an air of cool professionalism. “Mayor Hartford, allow me to introduce Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr. We had the pleasure of meeting earlier today.” The councilor stood, and reached across the table to shake Frisk’s hand. His grip was sturdy and warm.

Mayor Hartford went pale. “THIS is the monster ambassador?!”

Just once, could people act like Frisk being the ambassador _wasn’t_ the craziest thing in the world?

“Do you have a problem with that, Mister Mayor?” They inquired as politely as they could manage. The tone of their voice made it sound like such an innocent question.

If anything, this response only made the Mayor pale further, stuttering and stumbling over his words. “I- No, that’s not what I- What I meant to say was-”

“Sir, we should get started with the meeting.” General Galeforce interjected before the Mayor could say anything too insulting. “I’d like to begin by briefly summarizing the events of the last two days. My men and I were ordered to the Ebott area to round up any Toppats we could find and clean up the remains of the Toppat Station that crashed to the south of here. While we were in the area surrounding Mount Ebott we happened across the pilgrimage of monsters, recently freed from their prison. We escorted them here and gave them lodging while we searched for a solution. Unfortunately, the unauthorized information leak has pushed up the need for this meeting. The monsters cannot stay in this camp indefinitely. We’re hoping that we’ll find a solution for long-term co-habitation.”

“Co-habitation?” A councilor scoffed. “You can’t be serious. Do you really think _anybody_ is going to want to live with those things?”

Frisk immediately rebuffed. “They just haven’t gotten to know the monsters yet. The stories we’ve all been told are wrong, we just have to prove it to them!”

“Ambassador,” The Chief Councilor spoke, in the same annoyed tone that Frisk’s foster family had spoken to them in, “Legends of humans going missing on this mountain are older than the city itself. People are going to be frightened. That’s just human nature.”

“Human nature is subject to change.” Frisk rebuffed with confidence. “Once they’ve been exposed to the monsters, they’ll change their minds! You’d be surprised how quickly people can adapt to a changing world.”

King Asgore nodded and smiled, trying to be friendly but only succeeding in showing off his sharp teeth. “Indeed, monsters and humans have both come a long way. It’s easy to lose HOPE when you know you’ll never live to see the sun, but Frisk has restored that light for a lot of monsters. I’m more than certain that, with time, they will do the same for humans as well.”

One of the councilors tapped his fingers impatiently. “What do you expect from us, child?”

**They aren’t taking you seriously. You need to communicate to them just how much the humans have wronged the monsters. It’ll make them listen.**

Frisk slammed both their hands on the table and stood up. “I _expect_ you to make things right! Monsters have been suck in a prison so bad, a bunch of them just fell over and _died_ out of despair! The only exposure they’ve had to our world is the garbage that _we’ve_ dumped into the mountain! The monsters need to be moved into the city, out of this bug-infested _dump_ , and at least be given proper lodging in Ebott while we work on building a proper relationship!”

“And who will be paying for this?” One of the councilors asked.

“What about the humans in whatever area we move them too? They’ll riot once they see these… _things_!” Another yelled.

The chief councilor stared at them over folded hands. “...Ambassador. What would you expect to happen if a human in the city attacked a monster? They’d claim self-defense, and the council and police would come under fire for not protecting them. You all would be in terrible danger while in the city. Do you really think this is the best idea?”

**He’s certainly quick to pretend segragation is in monsters’ best interest, isn’t he?**

“Frisk, they raise a good point.” Toriel gently set a calming paw on Frisk’s head. The majority of the humans in the room flinched at the sight, but Chief Mitchell merely watched curiously, and Mayor Hartford was glancing off to the side, eyes clouded and face pale. Toriel smiled at the human council. “Might I suggest, instead, that we be granted a parcel of land and be allowed to build our own city? There’s not a lot of us, so it will be quite easy for us to stay out of the way.”

“A splendid idea!” Asgore agreed. “We shall call it Brand New Home!”

**... ~~Dad~~ King Asgore really does suck at names.**

“And how can we believe that you won’t be planning some kind of offensive?” A different council member spoke up for the first time. “Your kind simply can’t be trusted. Especially not after you’ve killed every human that climbed Mount Ebott!”

“Not every one!” Frisk objected. “I’m still alive! I’m PROOF that humans and monsters can be friends if we just tried! All we have to do is gather a bunch of monsters and a bunch of humans into one area-”

“And we’ll get a blood bath!” One of the councilors scoffed. “How can you honestly expect us to trust these _animals_?”

Frisk took a breath and counted to ten. Then they glared at this particular councilor, staring them straight in the eyes. “Humans aren’t better. Statistically, more humans in Ebott City are killed by humans than monsters. The only difference is monsters are weaker than us, so its okay to pin the blame on them!”

“If I may say,” General Galeforce spoke up. “In the days they’ve spent here, the monsters have been mild-mannered and cheerful all the way through. None of my men have even reported rude behavior from them, despite some… prejudices among the ranks.” Mister Galeforce’s brow furrowed, and it was not hard to imagine who he was thinking about.

Chief Mitchell raised a his eyes at Galeforce. “Really? If that’s the case, then why are there rumours floating around that a monster started a fight just last night?”

The General seemed surprised at last night’s debacle being brought up so casually like that. “That was a contained incident concerning a sensitive personal matter and entirely separate from the monster-human conflict, and I can vouch that the soldier provoked the monsters in question. It was dealt with, nobody was hurt. It was not serious.”

“Hold up,” One of the councilor’s held up their hand in a universal ‘stop’ motion. “You literally _just_ said there haven’t been any incidents, and now you’re saying there was a minor incident?” The councilor narrowed his eyes. “General, is there anything else you’re keeping from us?

**Oh, god damn it.**

Frisk sighed as they watched Galeforce tentatively attempt to walk back his statement. Well, they’d known they’d probably need to load a SAVE at least once. What could they learn from this run? It was clear that the councilors were stubborn about keeping the monsters out of the city, but they’re also too scared to leave them to their devices. Maybe they could recommend a human ambassador to monsters next time? Or perhaps-?

One of the councilors tapped his fingers impatiently. “What do you expect from us, child?”

Frisk jolted up. General Galeforce was no longer struggling to explain his contradictions to a panel of scrupulous human judges, and they were all once again staring at Frisk expectantly. This was more than just deva ju. This was…

**Somebody loaded a SAVE. And it wasn’t us.**

“Uh, sorry, quick change of topic,” Frisk’s fingers tapped uneasily against the table below them, “Do, uh, do any of you know magic?”

The human council, including the mayor, all looked incredibly confused at this turn in the conversation. Interestingly enough, however, Galeforce’s posture straightened and he stared directly at them.

“Magic? There’s no such thing as magic.” One council objected.

“Two days ago there was no such thing as monsters.” Pointed out Chief Mitchell. “But, Ambassador, what’s the point of bringing that up?”

Frisk looked between the members of the council. They could see confusion plain as day on all of their faces. Between the seven humans, Frisk could see a mix of INTEGRITY, PATIENCE, and PERSERVERENCE… but none of them were DETERMINATION dominant. In fact, the only other soul they knew that could use SAVES was…

**Henry. But why?**

“Frisk, do you know anything about magic?” The General asked. He looked surprisingly serious.

“Um, I know magic is hard for humans to do, but not impossible.” They answered vaguely, which was true enough. “What kind of magic you can do depends on what kind of soul you have, and monster magic has less restrictions and is easier to do, but is also a lot weaker.”

Toriel, being the aspiring teacher that she was, jumped up to explain further. “Magic is a natural part of the world, just like the wind. And how what kinds you can learn, as well as how powerful your spells are, depends on the composition of your soul. A really DETERMINED soul, for example, could learn time magic.” Her smile turned bittersweet as her voice became nostalgic. “A human child I knew was a natural with time magic. They used it so often to prank my son…”

**...Asriel was always such a crybaby when beaten at cards. It’s easy to win when you already know your opponent’s hand.**

“...what happened to this human?” Inquired Chief Mitchell. He seemed incredibly interested in the fate of the Fallen Children.

She didn’t meet his gaze as she answered. “...they passed away of an illness a few years after we met.”

It seemed Chief Mitchell was capable of empathy after all, because he bowed his head respectfully and gently told her. “I am sorry for your loss.” His attention then redirected at Mister Galeforce, who was staring quite thoughtfully at the opposite wall. “General? Do you mind sharing what’s on your mind?”

General Galeforce looked up and opened his mouth, but before he could properly answer the world RESET again.

One of the councilors tapped his fingers impatiently. “What do you expect from us, child?”

Frisk sat up straight. Something was wrong. Something HAD to have been wrong. Loading SAVES so quickly, one after another, only happened during Frisk’s more difficult battles in the Underground. If Henry was stuck in a fight, then-

“General, I think Henry’s in trouble!” Frisk blurted out.

This alarmed the entire council. General Galeforce immediately stood up and asked, “What do you mean?”

All eyes were on them, but Frisk couldn’t care less at the moment. They would SAVE everyone, and that included Henry. “Henry knows how to use time magic, sir.” Frisk answered. The expression on his face became harder, but was not disbelieving or surprised. “We’ve already gone back twice, sir. You don’t go back that often unless something serious happens.”

“The only thing that would make him go back is-” General Galeforce paused suddenly, the colour on his face draining away. “I’m going to go check on him.”

“We’re in the middle of something here, General!” Objected one of the councilors, but before Galeforce could even leave the tent, the world RESET again.

One of the councilors tapped his fingers impatiently. “What do you expect from us, child?”

**If they call ~~us~~ you child one more time, I am going to SCREAM.**

“General,” Frisk directed their attention at him, putting on their most serious expression, “I think Henry-”

Mister Galeforce was also up and out of his seat. “I know, something’s not right. Forgive me, councilors, but I have to check on an associate. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Well that was surprising. Did the General have enough DETERMINATION to be able to sense resets?

**No, I don’t think so. His primary soul attributes are JUSTICE and INTEGRITY. But if you already know someone can time travel when they load or RESET, it can make SAVES much easier to sense. That’s how that creepy weirdo does it.**

“My child, please, calm yourself.” Toriel brushed their hair out of their face to look them in the eyes. Her other paw then gently cradled Frisk’s cheek, forcing them to look up at her. “What is going on?”

The look on Asgore’s face, however, was more pensive and knowing. Toriel didn’t know Frisk could use time magic. Asgore, however, was well aware. Swiftly he moved, ignoring the stunned sounds of the counil as the once lumbering mass of fur that was the monster king was by Frisk’s other side in a heartbeat, placing a comforting hand on their shoulder. No words were needed, for no words could lift the burden of uselessness of their shoulders.

The world RESET.

One of the councilors tapped his fingers impatiently. “What do you-?”

Frisk was already out of their seat and sprinting towards the exit. “Sorry, there’s an emergency!” They could hear Miss Toriel and King Asgore calling after them, but ignored the two boss monsters for now. The councilors could wait; Henry couldn’t. Not if he’d loaded his SAVE this many times.

General Galeforce quickly came up behind them, keeping pace easily with the small energetic child. He asked, “Frisk, do you know what’s happening?”

“No, sir.” They answered. Talking and running at the same time was tough, and they were almost out of breath, but they kept running anyways. “I just know Henry’s in trouble and needs help!”

But the General already knew that. Not a hint of surprise was on his graying face.

Then, just as they entered the monsters’ side of the camp, a sudden CALL rang over the camp. Everybody, human and monster, swiveled their head in the same direction. It was loud, and desperate, and… not an audible sound at all. It was a CALL FOR HELP. They’d done this before. They’d reached out with all their DETERMINATION at their most desperate, and their friends had responded. It had spurred the six human souls to weaken the abomination that was Six-Soul Flowey. It had helped them withstand Asriel’s onslaught of attacks by calling on those who loved them. It had allowed them to SAVE their friends.

But despite CALLING all their attention, it didn’t SAVE Henry. Seconds after the CALL rang out over the camp, it was followed by a loud, explosive bang. Everyone who heard it seized immediately. The General’s eyes widened at the sound, as did all of the other soldiers.

“Shots fired!” He called out, loud and stern. “We need a team deployed to the monsters’ medical tent, now! Lyons, send a team over to protect the councilors and the monster royal family!” He then looked down at Frisk. “Sorry, Ambassador, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay here where it’s safe.” Frisk opened their mouth to protest, but without waiting even a moment he shoved them towards a passing soldier. “Sergeant Grit! Get the Ambassador somewhere more secure!”

The soldier saluted. “On it sir!”

The General ran off, leaving Frisk alone with this random soldier. She nodded her head towards the human side of the camp. “Come on, ambassador. I’ll keep you safe.” Without much in terms of CHOICE, Frisk followed along behind her.

**We need to give her the slip. Let’s try to-**

“sup kid.”

Again, Sans was by their side with that same lazy grin. When Miss Grit turned around to glare at him, he put up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“easy lady. im here to protect our ambassador during a state of emergency. cant just leave it all to you humans you know.” He winked playfully at her. Miss Grit didn’t look partially impressed, but at Frisk’s reassuring nod she let it slide and continued walking. Once her attention was off of them, Sans leaned over and… well, whispering implies the effort to speak softer, but Sans was definitely quieter as he asked. “so… i take it you havent died at all today?”

“It’s Henry.” Frisk whispered anxiously. “Something’s going on, but the General insisted I should get somewhere safe.”

Sans nodded. “he sounds like a smart guy.”

“Sans, Henry needs our help!” Frisk insisted in a frantic whisper. “Can you use a shortcut to get us over there? Pretty please?”

**You’re asking this guy for help? He sat back and watched Undyne almost skewer you!**

They didn’t exactly have a lot of options. Besides, Sans could be wherever he wanted to be in a heartbeat. If there was ever a time to need that power, it was now.

Sans scratched his chin as he pretended to think the request over. “hmm… normally im against using shortcuts for anything but slacking off or cosmic pranks, but you did say ‘pretty please’ so… why not?” He winked. “hold onto my sleeve kid. ill show you a shortcut.” While Miss Grit wasn’t looking, they ducked behind a tent….

...and reemerged outside the medical tent.

“Thanks, Sans.” Frisk murmured. They’d just beat General Galeforce here, and he was only approaching now. “Okay, I’m going to sneak in-” They turned to tell Sans directly to his face, but he was already gone.

**Wow. Rude. He didn’t even stick around to make sure you’d be okay.**

He’s probably going to check on his brother or something.

**Sure. Keep telling yourself that.**

Quickly, Frisk peered around to make sure no one was looking, then ducked down to carefully peel the bottom of the tent from the muddy ground and crawl inside. They then hid underneath the table and cautiously peered out from underneath the tablecloth. And there they were: Henry, lying on the ground, entirely too still. Rupert and Dave were sitting on the ground next to him; Dave was pressing his hands down on Henry’s abdomen as best he could, while Rupert was kneeling over Henry’s body with one hand on his neck and the other helping Dave press down on his stomach. Several meters away, the Snowdin Canine Unit were all piled on top of somebody; Greater Dog on top in his large, heavy armour, with Doggo keeping their arms behind their back and Dogamy and Dogaressa pointing their weapons at them. With the strong shading given by the tent, it was hard to make out any distinguishing features on the human.

Frisk’s breath stilled as they noticed how red the dirt surrounding Henry was.

“What in the fresh hell happened here?!” Demanded the General as he stomped in. His eyes were alight with fury, and his mustache was bristled and stiffened. He looked like a man on a warpath.

Immediately Rupert jumped to his feet and saluted, while Dave fully took over taking care of Henry. “Sir! Dave and I were on this side of the camp so he could see the monsters ‘imself, when we ‘eard that scream and rushed over ‘ere. Gun went off while we were just outside the tent. The Royal Guard ‘ad beat us ‘ere and detained… _‘er._ ” the word was spat out with pure vial and disgust as he gestured with his head towards the figure on the ground. “but they knew fuck and all ‘bout treating an injured ‘uman, so Dave an’ I ‘ave been doin’ our best. I couldn’t find an exit wound… the bullet’s still in there.” The General’s breath hitched. “’E needs a doctor.”

“One of you, get the medic!” General Galeforce’s booming voice shouted out. Frisk had never heard him sound so stern. “The rest of you, help the Royal Guard detain this…” His eyes narrowed at the woman trapped by the Dogpile. “...assassin.”

The dogs slowly, carefully, removed themselves. The soldiers yanked the woman to her feet. Violet PERSEVERANCE dominated her harsh glare as she stared silently out at all of them. A blue scarf covered her face; it was impossible to tell what she was feeling.

It was at that moment that Alphys sprinted in past the soldier running to get a doctor, followed by Undyne power walking after her. Upon seeing Henry on the ground, she shrieked and ran over. “Oh my god!” Her hand pressed over the bullet wound, radiating gentle KIND energy. Henry made a relieved noise, but didn’t awaken. “I just left for a half-hour for lunch?! What happened?!”

“We heard the screaming and got here as quickly as we could.” Undyne hung back closer to the General, avoiding Rupert’s gaze. Mister Price stared at her for only a moment, then bent down to gently help Dave to his feet, now that Alphys had taken over tending to the wounded man. “Shoot… I don’t know a lot about humans, but I’m pretty sure that red stuff is supposed to stay inside of you?” She was trying to play it cool, but Frisk could see how tense she was. “Is Henry going to be okay?”

Before the General could respond, the red-headed woman suddenly snapped to attention, her eyes narrowed in obvious confusion. “Henry?” She asked with an edge of disbelief to her voice. “Who the hell is Henry?!”

Everyone in the room, even Alphys, paused to stare at her in utter disbelief.

“Uh, ‘enry Stickmin?” Rupert informed her with a scowl. His hands tightened around Dave’s. “You know, the poor sod you just shot?!”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Wait, no. No, he said he was the human ambassador!”

...what? Henry, he…

**It seems he ACTED to protect you. Why, however, is up for speculation.**

It seemed the woman hadn’t intended to say that. Her eyes went wide, and before she could say or do anything Undyne was up in her face. “You were after Frisk?!” Her hands grabbed the woman by her shirt, pulling her up so she was forced to look Undyne in her in the eye. “If you so much as touch that little punk-”

“Easy, Captain.” General Galeforce pulled her away, then immediately spun around to glare daggers at the woman. His expression went dark. “Who sent you?”

“Uh, people rich enough that I’m going to be the one with a bounty on my head if I say anything.” The woman told them.

After a moment of consideration, the General issued an order to the men holding her. “Take her to the human side of the camp and keep her detained. I want her under twenty-four hour supervision. We’ll worry about interrogating her later.” He then turned to Undyne. “I hate to ask for more from your men, but would they be able to provide reinforcements-?”

Undyne cut him off with a harsh whistle. The entire canine unit stood at attention. “Good work today, soldiers! Now, I want you to cover the humans as they transport this prisoner to the human side of the camp. Do NOT let her get away. Understood?!”

They saluted and followed after the human soldiers as they escorted the woman out. As they did, the soldier who’d left to get the medic arrived alone and out of breath.

“I-I can’t find him sir!” He gasped out. Frisk wondered absently if he’d run all over the camp to try and find a doctor.

“What?! How busy could that man be?!” The General growled, then pointed outside the tent. “Keep looking, damn it!” The soldier saluted and scurried off. The General immediately turned back to Dave and Rupert, standing worriedly over Henry. “Mister Price! What’s Henry’s condition?”

“’E’s lost a lotta blood, sir.” Mister Price’s expression was always serious, but this time there was something grave hanging on his shoulders. “Whatevah the Doc’s doing is keepin’ ‘im stable, but ‘e’ll probably need surgery ta get that thing out.”

General Galeforce cursed under his breath and began pacing back and forth as the others mumbled about solutions. Should they take Henry to the hospital? No, they wouldn’t make it in time. Should they just bandage Henry and leave it be? But what if it hit something vital? Frisk could barely make out what they were saying over the general murmur of arguing that was going on.

“...General,” Alphys suddenly spoke out over the cacophony of voices. “I-I think I can do it.”

Everyone’s attention fell onto the Doctor.

“I… I’m not an expert in human physiology,” She stammered. “But I’ve studied textbooks a-and I’m pretty adept with healing magic! I think I can get the bullet out and HEAL him.”

“Are you bloody serious?” Rupert asked gravely. “Ya monsters don’t even _‘_ ave organs! ‘ow the ‘ell are you supposed to perform surgery on body parts ya’ve never even seen before?!”

“Mister Price.” General Galeforce interrupted. Not angry, not disappointed. Just a calm, firm call to stop, which Rupert heeded without question. Dave gently patted him on the arm. With that taken care of, General Galeforce turned back to Alphys. “Doctor, you’ve done an excellent job taking care of Charlie… I trust you. Do what needs to be done.”

These words of encouragement strengthen the Doctor like nothing before. She stood up straight, her mouth pressed into a thin line and her brow knit as she commanded Rupert and another soldier to carefully pick Henry up, and asked the General to shut them behind a curtain. The sudden turn in her demeanor was a surprise, but in retrospect, maybe it shouldn’t have been. Everything she’d done: the experiments on the souls, creating Flowey, the amalgamates… it had all been to help other people, even if it had gone horrifically wrong. And now she had a second chance to prove herself worthy of the trust that everyone was placing in her.

**We’ll leave Henry to her, then. Best get out of here before somebody notices us.**

Frisk agreed, and carefully maneuvered themselves outside of the tent. They peered around to the left, then to the right, then attempted to peel out. Unfortunately, that was when Undyne decided to dart out of the medical tent like a fish out-swimming a shark, and the two collided into each other at top speed.

**Solid crash. Ten out of ten.**

“Frisk?!” Undyne asked, the militant captain recovering a hair faster than the literal child. “What are you doing over here? Actually,” Undyne immediately began peering around in every direction, eyes frantic and paranoid. “Never mind. I need to talk to you about something.”

The apprehensive look on Undyne’s face immediately made Frisk uneasy. Still, Frisk let her lead them somewhere a little more private for a one-on-one chat. The butterflies in their stomach reminded Frisk of their first few battles down in the Underground.

“Papyrus said you went to check on Henry before this whole shazaam got started, right?” Undyne asked. When Frisk nodded their head, the former Captain continued. “When you went to check on him, you saw Charles, right?”

“Of course I did.” Answered the young ambassador immediately. “The General brought him earlier, remember?”

To their surprise, Undyne managed to look even more distressed at that. “That’s what I was afraid of. Frisk… we can’t find Charles.”

The child’s blood ran cold.

**Come to think of it, there was a distinct lack of green light in the tent.**

“Everybody else was too focused on Henry to notice, I think.” Undyne began pacing back and forth, her anxiety beginning to get the better of her. “But I looked everywhere in that tent, and I didn’t see diddly squat! Alphys is gonna freak!”

“I think everyone is going to freak.” Frisk told her, doing their best to keep neutral. They couldn’t afford to go into this panicking. “But Henry’s pretty smart. Maybe he hid Charles somewhere?”

“He hid Charles and came back to get murdered? That doesn’t make any sense.” Undyne paused in her pacing and scratched her chin. “But he couldn’t have just gotten up and left! What if…” Undyne bit her lip, her reluctance clearly visible, but she spilled it out anyways. “What if one of the monsters took him?”

Just the thought of that made them sick. That- it- no way. There’s no way one of their friends stole Charles. “That’s impossible!” Frisk insisted immediately. “Nobody here would steal a human soul!”

**...disregarding the _multiple_ times they tried to steal yours.**

Quiet, you.

“Well, I don’t have any other ideas!” Undyne threw her arms up, obviously frustrated. “The only other people who know about Charles is Galeforce and Price, and it’d have been kinda hard for Price to snag the soul without anyone noticing. There isn’t exactly a lot of evidence…”

**Well, we do have a witness.**

“A witness?” Frisk mumbled aloud to themselves.

**Think about it. Only two people were present during the time between now and when we last saw Charles. One of them is in surgery. And the other one…**

Oh. That’s what you meant.

Swallowing back their nerves, Frisk spoke up to get Undyne’s attention. “Um…” She paused in her pacing and spun around to look at Frisk. “Well, we could go ask the assassin lady. I mean, she was there, right?”

Undyne stared back at Frisk with an an expression that suggested she thought Frisk had suggested they attempt to find Charles by banging their heads against the ground. “Ambassador,” She said in her best ‘Fearlsome Captain’ voice. “She wasn’t here to murder Henry. She was here to murder _you._ We can’t take you anywhere near her! The Queen would kill me!” As she said that last part, Undyne paled considerably.

It was all true enough, but if an entire civilization attempting to murder them hadn’t been enough to tarnish their DETERMINATION, than a crazy human with a gun certainly wasn’t! “That’s even more reason to confront her! Henry got hurt because of me, making sure his friend is okay is the least I can do! Besides,” Their little hands tightened into fists, and Frisk stared down at the ground, “if it gets around that Charles is missing, everyone will blame the monsters. We have to find him, and fast. And this is the quickest way to do so.”

The former Royal Guard huffed and puffed, but finally acquiesced. “Fine. You win. But I’m not letting you go anywhere near that psychopath by yourself.”

Well, they hadn’t exactly wanted to go alone, so fine. That worked out well for everyone.

“Do you think they’ll let us in to see her?” Frisk asked as Undyne dragged them towards the human side of the camp.

To this, the large fish woman basically shrugged. “Hard to say. The humans have been… finicky so far.”

“OI!” The two were suddenly halted by the call of Rupert Price, glaring around anxiously like he expected another attacker to come out of the woodwork. Dave was following after him best he could with a pair of crutches. At least he had them this time. “Ambassador, the ‘ell you doin’ over ‘ere?! It’s dangerous. You should ‘ead back to the Meeting Tent. It’ll be safer over there.”

Undyne cast a frigid glare over Frisk’s head, directed at Rupert, who glared back with his own fiery gaze. Tensions between them were tangible. This did not bode well.

Then again… maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

“Mister Price!” Frisk ran up to him and grasped his hand with both of their own. This confused him, but he didn’t pull away. “Charles is missing! We need your help!”

This made him snap to attention. “’E’s WOT?!”

“Charles…” Dave looked down in melancholy. “That’s the sleeping soul the monsters were taking care of, right? Poor guy…”

“You knew about Charles?” Asked Frisk.

Dave nodded. “Rupert told me about him. We don’t keep secrets, right Rupert?”

With a wink, Dave jabbed Rupert’s side with his shoulder the best he could with a crutch tucked under each arm. For a moment, something dark crossed Rupert’s eyes, then he immediately turned around and smiled at Dave. “’Course not. Sorry, meant ta walk ya back, but this is kinda an emergency. Think ya can make it on yer own?”

To that, Dave made a noise with his mouth similar to a snorting horse. “Please. I got all the way to the monster side of the camp before you even knew I was gone. I can make it back to the tent just fine on my own. Might even be able to get some cleaning done,” A mischievous twinkle caught in Dave’s eye, “Since you seem intent on carpeting our tent with socks.”

“You ain’t exactly a perfect roommate either, Mister ‘I’m gonna play Pokemon until three in the morning’. Some o’ us ‘ave actually work ta do, you know.” But there was nothing malicious in his tone. In fact, he smiled quite sincerely as he waved Dave off. “Don’t ‘urt yourself!”

“No promises!” Dave called back.

Rupert shook his head after the retreating man, then turned back into the too serious soldier Frisk had come to know. “Alright, brief me. Wot’s the situation?”

“We think the person who attacked Henry knows what happened to Charles.” Frisk told him. The explanation left out a few details, but it was better for him _not_ to jump to conclusions at this point. “She’s our only lead. We need to interrogate her, and it’ll look better if one of the General’s men is with us.”

Rupert nodded. “Right. Yer sure she ‘as ‘im then?”

“She at least has to know something.” Undyne answered sternly. The non-answer made Rupert’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but he didn’t comment otherwise. Together the three began to walk to the human side of the camp, Rupert leading the way. Everything was a little too quiet.

“So… Mister Price,” Frisk addressed politely, “Is there anything you want to say to Miss Undyne?”

He looked down at them, then up at her sharp grin. Rupert scowled and said, “Not ‘less she ‘as somethin’ ta say ta me.”

Fair enough. They both went too far last night. Frisk turned to Undyne. “Do you have anything to say to him?”

She didn’t miss a beat, “Nope,” and continued forging ahead.

**Ah, yes. This was a splendid idea.**

Awkward silence dominated their trip across the camp to one heavily guarded tent. The soldier stood in front of it gaped her mouth openly when she saw Frisk. “Ambassador! It isn’t safe here, you should go back to your family.”

“Ya know, I’m getting real tired of hearing that.” Frisk told them with a false sense of fervent cheer they’d learned from Flowey. “This woman threatened all of monsterkind with her actions. I demand to speak with her.”

“They ‘ave clearance.” Rupert confirmed from behind them. “The Capt’n and I are ‘ere to make sure nothing bad ‘appens.”

Hesitantly, the soldier nodded. “Alright, head on in then. Be careful, Ambassador.”

As if they needed the reminder.

Two guards were stood on each side of the tent, statue still and weapons at the ready. In the center was a single chair, lit by the entrance of the tent, and chained in that chair was the assassin. Her red hair was roughly tossled on her head, and it hung down over her face. She didn’t move as they entered. Didn’t speak. Just… sat there.

Undyne approached first. She shouted loudly, “HEY! Who the hell do you think you are, lady?!” She punched one of the wooden supports that held the tent up. “You think you can get away with this?!”

“Tbe bloody ‘ell are you doing?!” Rupert asked. “Are you tryin’ ta get me in trouble fer mistreating a prisoner?!”

“Ugh.” Undyne rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’ve seen this in Alphys’ history books all the time!” Never mind that those history books were actually manga. And here Frisk had thought they’d taken the truth so well… “It’s my job to be a rough and tumble punk who doesn’t play by the rules, but gets away with it because I’m just _that_ good! And you’re my by the book partner who’s rough and gruff around the edges but secretly has a soft heart!”

The most puzzled look came across Rupert’s face. “I- wot- ya mean ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’? This ain’t a crime drama! That don’t actually work!”

While the two of them continued bickering, Frisk approached their would-be murderer with an air of caution. She wasn’t reacting to the words flying around her head; just continued staring down at the ground. Frisk wondered what was going on through their head. Did she know just what was at stake here? Was there a personal reason behind her attack? Would she… have hurt Charles to get rid of who she thought was Frisk?

There was only one way to find out.

“Ma’am?” Frisk asked. The fighting stopped behind them, but Frisk paid it no mind. “My name is Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr. Would you mind answering some questions for me?”

That got the woman to look up. When she saw Frisk, her eyes widened. “You’re… the ambassador?” Frisk nodded. “But… I… they sent me to kill a child? That doesn’t make any sense…”

“Oh, so it’s okay to attack Henry when _he_ says he’s the ambassador. But when they’re smaller than you suddenly it’s all tears and apologies?” Undyne tsked at her. “You humans are all hypocrites.”

“’ere’s a difference between _hypocrisy_ and _standards_ , Captain.” Rupert retorted. “But it does seem a touch irresponsible to try an’ kill somebody without even knowin’ wot age range ‘ey’re in.”

The woman went silent again.

“I won’t ask who wanted me dead.” Frisk promised. “But… can I at least know why?”

“I was told…” Her eyes furrowed. “I was told the ambassador was dangerous. That they were a traitor to humanity that was sacrificing our safety so these… _things_ could wreck havoc on the world. That they’d already threatened someone with blackmail and that they’d do worse if they weren’t put down.” She looked away. “I… didn’t believe you were the scum those assholes were describing, I just wanted my freedom, but… I didn’t think their lies would run this far. I mean, a kid? There’s no way you did the stuff they talked about.”

Blackmail? Frisk mused over the word for a moment. They hadn’t blackmailed anybody, but… well, Henry _had_ gotten the council here rather quickly…

**This must be what one would call ‘karma’,**

NO. The thought of that made Frisk sick to their stomach. An eye for an eye was never right ~~no matter how badly they were hurting me~~ no matter what. And while Henry had been the one to set this up… it had been Frisk who’d pushed him to do so. They’d put an impossible demand on him so Charles could get the help he needed. Sans had been right when he’d said they’d held Charles hostage. This was their fault. ~~Again.~~

**Not at all. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of other people.**

Like you’re one to talk.

“...we’ll deal with that later.” Undyne decided upon noticing how quiet her pacifist ambassador was being. “For now, we need information. What happened after you shot Henry?”

This confused the girl, but she answered it all the same. “Well, I shot the- Henry guy… then I tried to book it out of there. The Dogs caught me before I could get anywhere.”

“And wot’d ya do with the- the heart-shaped glowing thing?” Rupert asked testily.

To this the woman raised a pointed ‘brow at them. “You mean the human soul those monsters were keeping? I know about souls.” Undyne and Rupert both reeled in shock at that. “Any human who knows about magic knows about souls. It’s kinda the most fundamental basics, ya know?” She gave them a smile with no mirth and spoke to them like she was explaining the obvious to a small child. “And I didn’t take that thing. It was in a giant container, where the hell would I put it?”

Rupert immediately pointed out. “Ya could’ve broken it. ‘S not ‘at ‘ard.”

“Nah. After what happened yesterday, Alphys REALLY reinforced that capsule. I couldn’t break it if I tried.” Undyne shook with barely supressed rage, then punched the pole again. “Damn it! Then what the hell happened to it?!”

Frisk reached up and placed a hand gently on Undyne’s bicep. They then turned back to the woman. “Okay. So you didn’t take it. Who did? You were there, you had to have seen something.”

The only response they got was a curt shake of the head. “I don’t know what to tell you… it was there when I booked it, and after I got dogpiled, I noticed it was gone.”

“So one o’ those dog monsters took it, ‘en?” Rupert thought aloud.

That might have sparked another argument, but the woman actually shook her head no. “I wouldn’t say that, either. They were all piled on top of me almost immediately. None of them were out of my eyesight for a second. It couldn’t have been them, either.”

“So then someone else snuck in, ‘en?” Rupert mused. “Maybe another monster ‘eard the shots and came to investigate, got scared, and ran off with Charles?”

“Or she’s just _lying_ to us!” Undyne said with a scowl. “There’s no way you don’t know what happened! Either tell us the truth, or I swear-!!”

“Wot did I tell ya ‘bout trying ta get me in trouble fer war crimes?!”

The two of them continued bickering while Frisk thought. Okay, let’s assume Miss Killer Redhead wasn’t lying to them. If that was the case, then the dogs weren’t responsible for taking Charles. Nor was she. That left… what? Anybody running off with Charles would have been noticed by the soldiers, right? Then maybe… it was somebody who could fly? But the only monsters who could fly freely were either too small or didn’t have the right anatomy to hold something like the soul capsule. There was something missing; a piece they weren’t aware of. But what was it? What were they overlooking?

**You know… there is another possibility.**

Frisk silently stood at attention.

**When Henry called out for help, we all heard him. Price, the monsters, us… what if _somebody else_ heard him? And what if that person woke up to try to help, but couldn’t get free?**

Wait… you mean… is that possible?

**It’s happened before. ~~It happened to me.~~**

“Guys, I have an idea!” Frisk announced to the arguing pair behind them successfully drawing their attention. “Let’s head back one last time. I think I might know what happpened!” Confused, the two watched Frisk’s retreating form for a moment before following.

After a brief moment, Frisk poked their head back into the tent. “Hey… ma’am, you know, I don’t think you’re a bad person. It seems like you were just desperate enough to do something stupid.” They smiled brightly. “It’s never too late to make up for your mistakes!”

The woman blinked stupidly for a moment, then offered Frisk what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Heh… I’m not so sure about that. But thanks anyway, kid.”

Frisk waved at her as they left.

They arrived back at the scene of the crime.

Henry’s procedure appeared to have been completed. General Galeforce was nowhere to be found, and instead Alphys was sitting by Henry’s bedside, continuing to apply healing magic to the wound. Henry himself was still out cold.

“Oh, U-Undyne!” Alphys smiled at the sight of her girlfriend. “I was wondering where you- Frisk? Mister Price?” Her smile faded as confusion overcame her. “What’s going on-?”

“Tell ya in a bit, sweetie.” The Captain answered nonchalantly, ignoring the resulting reddening of the doctor’s face. “Okay, Frisk, what’s this theory of yours?”

“Well, if he was on top of the table…” Frisk used the indentation of the soul capsule to figure out where Charles had been. “...and just behind that….” They climbed on top of the table – something that would have gotten them yelled at anywhere else, but monster manners were different and Rupert didn’t seem to care. Sure enough, on the opposite side of the tent were two places where the edges of the tent had been disturbed: the one where Frisk had entered closer to the table, and pushing outwards with strange tracks in the ground. So they were right.

“’Ow’s ‘Enry?” Rupert asked while Frisk was investigating.

“Stable, for the moment. I managed to use magnetic magic to pull the bullet out, then healed the area around it. The human body is pretty complex, so it’ll need some time to entirely heal… but it looks like he’ll pull through.” She sounded about as relieved as Frisk felt. At least their mistake wouldn’t get him killed.

“Guys, follow me!” Frisk called, and Rupert and Undyne followed behind them, with Alphys staying to keep an eye on Henry. They followed Frisk underneath the tent (Mister Price’s gun got stuck, which made Undyne bust a gut), and through the area between the tents and the fence that was keeping the camp secured.

Except, of course, for the suspciously squre hole in the bottom of it.

**I KNEW IT.**

“’Ow the bloody ‘ell...?” Rupert wondered aloud. “Did a monster do this? These fences are ‘ard steel! They’d bust a car fender before they’d give!”

“A few monsters are this strong, but if one of them forced their way through I don’t think the hole would look quite like… this.” The hole in question appeared less like it had been cut out and more like something had tried to run straight through it and succeeded. Each edge of the hole was tapered outward towards the woods surrounding them. Undyne hadn’t been kidding when she said Alphys had really reinforced that capsule. “Plus, its a pretty tiny hole.”

Rupert gently pushed Frisk to the side, then got down all fours. “Well, only one way to find out fer sure.” And with that he wiggled his way underneath the fence, popping out the other side like a proud gopher. “Well, c’mon then!”

With a smirk, Undyne leaned against the fence. “Wouldn’t you get in trouble if a monster left the camp?”

“We ain’t gonna find Charles sitting aroun’ twiddlin’ our thumbs an’ waiting fer permission from the higher ups. ‘Sides, who’s gonna be tellin’?” Rupert winked. “I certainly ain’t.”

This made Undyne let out a roaring laugh. “And here I had you pegged for the no-fun, by the book type! Alright, let’s snag that soul thief!”

Undyne didn’t even bother attempting to crawl underneath the fence; she gripped Frisk by the scalp and leaped clear over the fencing, landing with a hard thud right next to a stunned Rupert. Once Frisk was down on the ground, Undyne went racing off into the forest, and Rupert and Frisk scrambled to keep up. In the end Frisk had to ride on Rupert’s shoulders if they wanted to get anywhere fast.

After maybe half an hour of searching, Frisk spotted it. A green glow, stuck underneath a tree.

Frisk managed to pull the capsule out from underneath the roots, but Charles made it difficult by bouncing constantly against the sides of the containers, from one side to the other in half a second. The force of his bouncing was so great that Frisk nearly toppled over multiple times as they attempted desperately to keep hold of the thing.

“What the heck?!” Undyne immediately pulled it out of Frisk’s grip, but it was a little much even for her.

As Undyne struggled to keep the capsule upright. Rupert watched in a panic. “Charles!” He tried to call. “Charles!” The soul still bounced, as if not hearing him. “Damn it, wot the ‘ell is goin’ on with ‘im?!”

**He’s panicking. It would be in everybody’s best interest for you to calm him down.**

“Charles! Charles! Shhh!” Frisk placed both of their tiny hands on the capsule, feeling it vibrate from the force of the soul striking into it. “Charles, it’s okay! We’re friends of Henry’s!”

Bringing up Henry was absolutely the correct thing to do. The bouncing suddenly stopped, and Charles soul pressed into the glass as close to Frisk’s face as he could.

_**Who’s there? Where are you?! Where’s Henry?!** _

Charles didn’t really speak aloud. Rather, it was like what he wanted to say was already in Frisk’s head, very similar to another dead person they kept hearing. Except this time, judging from the shocked expressions on their faces, Frisk assumed Rupert and Undyne could hear him too.

“No way…” Rupert breathed out reverently. “Is- is ‘at really you, Charles?”

_**Rupert?** _

Hearing the other soldier’s voice further calmed the wayward soul. He flew over to the side of the container Rupert was closest to. Or rather, flew into the side.

_**Rupert, what’s going on? The last thing I remember is the Space Station… and then, I don’t know, everything gets fuzzy. Next thing I know, I can’t see anything and Henry’s screaming- Is Henry okay?!** _

“He can’t see?” Frisk frowned.

Undyne didn’t look quite as surprised. “Souls don’t have eyes, so he’ll have to learn how magically sense things. Like monsters without eyes have to do.”

“But ‘e can ‘ear us an’ talk?” Rupert asked with a raised brow.

“Well, he’s not talking or hearing. He’s reaching out. Monster kids do it to before they can figure out how they’re weird bodies work… if they have a mouth or ears at all.” Undyne kinda shrugged at this one. “Look, I love Alphys, but I can only retain so much of her nerd crap before I zone out. Science is boring.”

**Um, excuse me, science RULES~.**

Great. Now that was going to be stuck in Frisk’s head all day.

_**Who is that?** _

“Oh!” Frisk blinked, having let it slip their mind just how clueless Charles would be. “Uh, that was Undyne and, um, my name is Frisk! I’m a friend of Henry’s, and also the Monster Ambassador-” Frisk then realized that Charles would likely have no idea about the monsters. “Um, wow, you’ve really missed a lot.”

And so began the long and arduous task of relaying all of the current events for Charles. Rupert handled most of the stuff that had happened between the Toppat Clan’s station going down and the monster’s freedom, while Frisk gave a short synopsis of freeing the monsters and bringing them down, with Undyne and ~~Chara~~ providing running commentary. Charles seemed properly invested, oohing and awing and laughing in all the right places. Something told Frisk he’d suspected something when they skipped over Asriel and Flowey’s parts. There was a looming silence from all of them as Frisk very briefly went over the events leading up to the summit, carefully skirting around their misdeeds. And finally, the shooting.

The glowing green light stuttered.

“I’m sorry, Charles.” Frisk told him. “The Doctor said he’s going to pull through just fine, but I can understand how hearing that must be really scary.”

_**Henry…** _

Charles whispered and shook. And it was all Frisk’s fault; the assassin wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for them.

**You cannot blame yourself for the actions of people so cowardly that they would rather kill you than face you. Stay DETERMINED, Frisk.**

Right. Stay DETERMINED. It was all they really could do.

“Let’s get you out of there.” Frisk told him, then investigated the keypad. It was supposed to be that the only ones who could enter were Asgore and Alphys, but if Alphys made the password, then maybe it was…

M-E-W-M-E-W-K-I-S-S-Y-C-U-T-I-E

_Ding! Password Accepted!_

Sigh. They really needed to talk to Alphys about keeping this kind of stuff more secure.

The top of the capsule made a hissing noise as it opened, and the second it did Charles zoomed out the top and directly into a tree branch. Frisk and Rupert scrambled to call him down to them safely, and eventually he landed in Frisk’s hands, floating above their cupped palms. His kindness still radiated and caused a giddy feeling in the back of Frisk’s brain, but now it was more controlled, subdued. Thus was the power of an awakened soul, they supposed.

“C’mon, kiddo, we’ll show you Henry’s doing just fine!” Undyne encouraged, then moved to head back.

Rupert cut her off. “Ah, let me ‘ead back first. Ya know, make sure the coast is clear. Don’t want our Ambassador ta be getting’ in any trouble, ay?”

He smiled, and Undyne smiled back and, okay, maybe it wasn’t the apology Frisk had been hoping for, but it was at least a start.

The two of them headed back. Frisk trailed behind them, cradling Charles carefully. The search had started out so terrifying, with the knowledge that if Charles had been killed – or worse _absorbed_ – then the monsters would lose all the progress they’d made so far. But it had ended on perhaps the best note possible. Charles was awake, and okay, and Henry would make a full recovery. And since monsters had saved him, maybe Frisk could use that to their advantage, and at least get the monsters to better accommodations. Despite everything, it would all turn out just fine.

_**Thanks for looking after Henry while I’ve been out. And your little friend is right. What happened to him is absolutely not your fault.** _

Frisk froze.

**Did he just-?**

_**Hi! I, uh, noticed you didn’t introduce yourself earlier. Didn’t want to call you out in front of everyone, so I waited until we were alone. My name’s Charles. What’s yours?** _

“You can hear them?” Frisk whispered aloud.

_**Uh, yeah? Wait, can everyone else not? I just thought they were shy!** _

**...yes. I am extremely shy. So shy, in fact, that I’d rather nobody know I’m here. Especially the King and Queen. I just want to help my friend Frisk here. Can you keep this between us please?**

_**Sure, yeah, I can do that.** _

Well, that was unexpected. Frisk exhaled deeply. Life just got a _whole_ lot more complicated.

Even several meters away, the sounds of voices coming from the medical tent rang clear through the air. Undyne was loudest and proudest, followed by Rupert, then Alphys struggling to keep up with them. Then the quietest voice, audible but a struggle to pick out from the rest, was Henry’s. Once he heard the soft voice of his friend, Charles zoomed out of their hands toward that familiar sound, with Frisk struggling to keep up with their stubby, fleshy legs. They burst into the medical tent, and all the sounds immediately died. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Henry stared straight at them, doe-eyed.

_**...Heya Henry. I’m finally awake. Sorry it took so long.** _

“...Charles…” Henry whispered, quiet and disbelieving. Then his eyes fogged over with tears. “... _Charles_ … _!”_

The downed man was quick to try and get up, but Charles was quicker. Using only the sound of Henry’s voice, Charles zoomed across the tent and knocked Henry back down into a laying position. He grunted a bit out of surprise, but didn’t seem to be in pain. In fact, he did something Frisk realized they’d never seen him do once: he laughed. He smiled wide and full and more genuine than Frisk had ever seen from Henry, and while his red and puffy eyes practically poured out tears, his laughter showed that, for once, these were tears of joy. He held Charles close to him, his skin coming into contact with the glowing green radiance of KINDNESS, and Charles seemed to glow even brighter than when he’d had no control over himself. For the first time, Henry looked genuinely happy.

**The sight of friends reunited fills you with DETERMINATION.**

_File Saved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same, Frisk. Same.
> 
> So, if you don't mind me asking for feedback, I may have to extend the story a bit to enhance the ending, but I'm a little torn on how to do so. Originally, I'd have ended on a Henry chapter, then have a separate epilogue chapter for everyone. So, here's my dilemma: do I extend the story by three chapters, and keep the separate epilogues? Or do I extend the story by one chapter, and have a single, longer epilogue chapter? I can see pros and cons to both, so I wanted to ask for some feedback here. Thanks in advance!


	13. Cracked Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Charles is back! That means there'll be no more problems for Henry right? …right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone who commented on the last chapter. I got a little feedback on my question (will probably extend the story by three chapters, we'll see when we get there), but mostly they were all super positive and super encouraging and just... wow. I'm happy so many people seem to like my story. Thanks, everyone.
> 
> Now, onto the drama!

There wasn’t an inch of Henry’s body that wasn’t in pain. The worst of it was in his stomach, concentrated on the spot where the bullet had torn through his muscles. His head pounded, his arms shook with the effort it took to raise them up. There was a dull burning radiating from his chest that seemed to spread across his entire body, draining Henry of all his energy. And yet despite the agony, Henry couldn’t be happier.

Because Charles was alive _._ Granted, he was a soul without a body and communicated through weird telepathy, but he was _alive_.

Henry held the soul close as he continued to sniffle and sob. The sensation of raw KINDNESS on his bare skin was a bit more controlled than previously, so no being sucked into random memories this time. Instead Henry felt vague sensations from the times they’d hung out in the past: the warmth of his favourite jacket, the murmuring hum of a movie in the background, the taste of hot chocolate with just a hint of cinnamon dancing on his tongue. It felt like entirely too short a time before Henry finally relaxed his death grip, but only because Alphys insisted on checking up on Charles’ DETERMINATION levels.

“J-just to make sure everything’s okay.” Alphys reassured nervously. “I mean, it’s probably fine? But it never hurts to be careful.”

A fair enough precaution. But the thought of letting Charles out of his grip, let alone out of his sight, didn’t sit well with Henry, so with strained effort he raised himself to a sitting position in order to carry Charles over.

_**Henry?** _

Charles’ voice rang through his mind, discernible from his own thoughts with by the familiar upbeat tone of his voice.

_**Hey, don’t push yourself! You should really get some more rest.** _

To this Henry shook his head vigorously. “I literally just got you back. Not ready to let go just yet.”

“Ugh.” Undyne groaned from somewhere off to the side, loud and exaggerated, “This is cute and all, but I’d rather not be here all day listening to you two argue, so…” She sauntered over to Henry and promptly lifted him up, bridal style. Henry would like to say that this was a surprising development. It was not.

“Oi!” Price called from where he was casually leaning against a table, watching the touching reunion from afar with Frisk. “Be careful ‘ere! Ya bust ‘Enry’s stitches and you’ll be covered in gross ‘uman juices!” Next to him, Frisk wrinkled their nose and scrunched up their eyes, which made an expression that described exactly how Henry felt about the phrase ‘human juices’.

Undyne scoffed openly. “He’ll be fine! Alphys healed him right up, right Sweetie?”

After her entire face turned red and about half a minute of stuttering and blubbering, Alphys was able to spit out a mostly coherent answer. “I, uh, well, mostly? I mean, he’d have died if I hadn’t healed him at least a little, so it definitely took, but physical wounds on a human body are so much different than physical wounds on a monster body, or even magical wounds on a human body. I don’t know enough about human physiology to heal him completely. I did what I could, but his body’s going to have to do the rest.”

Ah. Wonderful. Thanks, biology!

_**You sure you’re alright?** _

Henry smiles down at the little green light cradled in his hands. “Never better, buddy.” On the contrary, Undyne’s arms were oddly comfortable. It was like he was a child again, having fallen asleep outside the school waiting for parents who ‘forgot’ him again, his favourite teacher coming outside and carrying him to the nurse’s office so that he could sleep in a relatively safe place. Henry had cradled a borrowed stuffed toy as he himself was carried by the one adult he’d dared to trust. When Undyne set him down on a wooden stool near the Doc’s equipment, Henry sighed and rolled his shoulders. Smiling down at Charles, Henry asked, “How are you feeling?”

_**I feel… good, mostly? Kinda wish I could see, but ya know, it’s better than being dead.** _

Charles bobbed in a gesture that Henry decided was probably a shrug.

_**Gotta admit, I’ll feel better after I shake the whole ‘best pal shot in front of ya while you couldn’t do anything’ thing.** _

“Yeah, sorry.” Henry smiled lightheartedly. “But, I mean, on the bright side, it did wake you up!” In Henry’s mind that made getting shot more than worth it, though he wisely decided not to divulge this information to Charles. “I’ve been trying for days. I was beginning to think…” That Henry wasn’t close enough to wake Charles up, didn’t mean enough, wasn’t _good enough_ \- “...That you couldn’t hear me.”

_**I… wouldn’t say that.** _

Charles actually sounded kind of sheepish, which wasn’t something Henry believed he’d ever heard from the normally confident pilot.

_**I mean… well, even if I was asleep, I did have these… dreams. These very strange, very specific, very narrated dreams.** _

Oh. Henry felt his face heat up. “Oh… so you heard the stuff about the time powers…?”

_**Yup.** _

“And the stealing things?”

_**Yup.** _

“And… the… ya know, the sign language thing?” A pit of all-consuming anxiety was formed in Henry’s stomach, sucking in his positive thoughts like a black hole absorbing light.

For this, the tiny soul hovering over Henry’s palms floated closer and nuzzled into his sore chest, banishing the black hole in an instant.

_**Hey. You don’t need to feel bad about that. You don’t have to share anything about yourself you’re not ready to.** _

How the hell did somebody like this decide _Henry_ was worth saving over himself? God. It took most of Henry’s DETERMINATION not to cry again, instead choosing to embrace Charles once more.

Somewhere off to the side, the Doc’s machine finished spitting out two pieces of paper from the scan. She was turned away from them as she briefly skimmed over both sheets, placed one face down on the table, and then turned to the duo with the other paper and a smile.

“It seems like everything’s going well!” She assured them brightly. She was fidgeting a little, but that was probably just Alphys being Alphys. “Charles’ DETERMINATION isn’t quite up to what it’s supposed to be yet, but his output has significantly increased, along with his soul’s production of the other six traits. I’d say he’s going to be just fine!”

Hearing that was like a weight lifted off of Henry’s heart. Undyne gave him a ‘gentle’ congratulatory love tap on the back of his shoulders, resulting in a brand new ache and possible bruise. Frisk’s already beaming face seemed to get even brighter as they tossed a thumbs up his way. Even Rupert Price looked close to tears.

It was at this point that Galeforce returned, chest puffed and eyes ablaze. His hard stare scanned the room briefly before resting on Frisk. Then his piercing glare narrowed in on them. “ _Ambassador_.”

Frisk jumped a little. Not that he blamed them; Henry wasn’t even the person Galeforce was mad at and he felt the distinct urge to jump to his feet and bolt. Might have, if it wasn’t for Charles’ calming presence and the impending risk of tearing open his fresh wound and bleeding out.

“Do you realize the _panic_ you caused Sergeant Grit when she couldn’t find you, Ambassador Dreemurr?” The General inquired sharply. Frisk shrunk a little in their seat. “There was an _active shooter_ inside the camp, and nobody could account for your presence. While I understand you were worried about Henry, your blatant disregard for your own well being is absolutely-”

_**Capt’n? Is that you?** _

And Charles for the save.

The stern talking down General Galeforce had been giving Frisk was halted as Charles’ voice echoed through all their heads. He turned, eyes wide, towards Henry, his attention narrowing in on the glowing green soul Henry held in his lap. With a smile, Henry used all his strength to lift Charles up for the stunned man to take hold of. With slow motions, like lifting fragile glass, Galeforce lifted Charles out of Henry’s quivering arms and gazed into the green aura.

“Charlie?” The General asked in a soft whisper. The hope that clung to his harrowed voice was tangibly fragile.

_**Hiya, sir. It’s good to hear you again.** _

Joyful tears fell down Galeforce’s face, and without a second thought he pulled the soul close to his chest into another merry hug. Green light radiated off of Charles’ soul, pouring over everyone in the tent. Looking at the reunited family, it was hard for Henry not to feel happy, but he also couldn’t help feeling a little lonely. At least, he did until the General’s surprisingly firm grip pulled Henry into the hug. For the first time since Completing the Mission, Henry let himself relax.

“I’ll escort the Ambassador back to their family, sir.” Rupert announced with a salute.

“Yeah, I’ll come too.” Undyne volunteered. “If the Queen sees that Frisk is well protected, she’s less likely to set us all on fire.”

Just the mention of Queen Dreemurr put a visible wince on Frisk’s face. “Right. Mom. Okay, let’s go get that over with.” They paused for a brief second, then Henry heard what sounded like a muffled chuckle coming from Charles. With the air of someone marching to their death, the child joined hands with Rupert and Undyne and the three walked away, chattering idly about whatever hardened soldiers and young children talk about.

“I… suppose I should be heading back to the meeting myself.” Galeforce told them as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. The spot on Henry’s back where his hand had been resting suddenly felt cold and itchy. “You both should come with me. Your testimony about your experiences with the monsters will be an invaluable piece of evidence. Not to mention finally get that do-nothing mayor to get off his ass and do his job…” The General stroked his beard in thought.

Henry was about to agree when Alphys pushed her way into their little group. “Uh, actually General, I’d like to check on Henry’s wound one more time. You know, to make sure he’s healing up okay? Why don’t you two go on ahead?”

_**But…** _

Charles’ sounded just as excited to part ways as Henry was, especially seeing as they’d just found each other again. But something about Alphys’ eyes, about the way they darted over to him nervously, told Henry that something was really bothering her. So Henry took a deep, calming breath, and gave Charles and Galeforce his best fake smile.

“Come on, we’ve already had a chance to catch up, dude.” Henry gently tapped Charles on the side, smiling a little when the soul glowed brighter in response. “You go have fun with your dad.”

“If you’d like, we can stay until Doctor Alphys is done.” The General prodded gently. “It won’t kill those old moneybags to wait another few minutes.”

This time it was the Doctor herself who redirected the other. “Er, actually, I’d think it’s best you don’t stay. Henry’s going to have to take off his shirt so I can examine the wound, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be comfortable showing off his bare chest again.”

“Yeah, I-” Henry paused and frowned. “Wait, again?!”

The General’s mouth twitched up at Henry’s response. Well,” His eyes darted between the two of them, “if you’re sure…”

Henry nodded, and the General gave him a pat on the shoulder. Charles bobbed a little more erratically, already beginning to feel the separation anxiety.

_**I’ll see you soon, then… be careful, okay? Let me know if there’s anything wrong.** _

“You literally died.” Henry pointed out, surprisingly lighthearted. “You have forever lost the privilege of telling _me_ to be careful.”

_**Wow. Rude. Alright, have fun getting poked in the organs.** _

Although still a little reluctant, Charles left with the General, and Henry waved cheerfully after the two as they left. While Alphys took a moment to make sure her equipment was all clean, Henry stared up at the ceiling of the tent with a smile. Even though the light of KINDNESS that radiated from Charles was gone, Henry could still feel giddiness overwhelming his soul. Just a few days ago it had felt like the world was falling apart, like nothing would ever get better. And now Charles was back. There was a mountain of work ahead, with the monster conflict and the whole figuring out this sightless dead soul thing, but overall, the future was bright.

Henry was DETERMINED.

_Save?_

Henry reached out to override his SAVE from just before he got shot… when he paused. At this point, there was really no need to keep his older SAVE, was there? It did mean he was giving up on SAVING Charles’ physical body, but after days and days of continuously watching the only person to ever give him a fair chance die again and again, the thought of trying again made Henry unusually tired. Charles was here, and alive, and hey, maybe they could get Charles a new body? Shortly before the attack on the Toppat Station there had been an exhibition on cyborgs and robotic augmentations displayed on television at the bar he’d frequented. Charles seemed like the type of guy who’d enjoy a robot body.

Henry reached out to his farthest SAVE… and overrode it. As the SAVE took, a sharp jolt sprang from Henry’s chest and pulsed out into his abdomen. Okay, now even _that_ hurt. What the hell?

_File Saved._

“Alright, Henry.” Alphys came back with a pair of gloves, a piece of paper, and a nervous smile. “Let’s take a look at the wound.” Under her watch, Henry carefully peeled first his shirt, then the bandages away from his skin and stared down at the new scar decorating his stomach. It was still red, the flesh raised and raw, but at least it wasn’t open anymore. Alphys hummed and hawed at the wound for a bit, then ran a green hand over it that dulled the pain. “Alright, uh, it looks like it’s healing properly…” She said as she pulled away. Henry took this opportunity to immediately pulled on his shirt again. The check-up was remarkably quick. Henry wasn’t particularly surprised when Alphys continued, “Now, there is one more thing I want to check before you go. I want to see your soul.”

“My soul?” Henry questioned, pulling his favourite jacket on over his shirt. Somebody must have cleaned the blood off of it. How nice.

Doctor Alphys took the piece of paper she’d brought, another chart, and showed it to Henry. The coloured lines that populated the chart were a little more erratic than Charles’ chart, with the blue onein particular jumping up and down at seemingly random. This, Henry realized suddenly, was the readings of his own soul.

“When I was taking Charles’ readings, I accidentally took yours as well and noticed a discrepancy in your INTEGRITY levels. It’s probably nothing… just stress and lack of sleep. But I’ve, uh,” Alphys fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting around in every direction but Henry’s, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s always a good idea to double check your work. So, uh, if you don’t mind.”

To put the poor woman’s nerves at ease, Henry pulled his soul out into the open.

Oh. That… that didn’t look good.

Alphys’ reaction was less subdued. “Oh my god!” Her hands immediately hovered over Henry’s soul, seeping green energy into the construct. Unlike the bullet wound, however, the KINDNESS didn’t seem to have any sort of effect on the dull aches that were spreading through his body. After what felt like a long minute of her futilely attempting to fix the tear, the poor Doc finally stopped her attempt at healing with an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t get it.” Alphys scratched the back of her head. “Souls don’t just tear themselves apart like this. What could have happened to it?”

_It’ll only hurt for a bit…_

“Uh…” Henry chuckled awkwardly, nervously glancing away from Alphys. “You, uh, remember how Charles had weirdly high DETERMINATION…?”

For a moment the Doc only looked confused, then she must have realized what Henry was insinuating, because her expression turned to one of shock and minor horror. “NO. You _didn_ ’ _t._ ” When Henry only sheepishly grinned at her, Alphys immediately got up and started pacing back and forth. “Do you have ANY idea how dangerous it is to just… take DETERMINATION? The process is so risky that we had to create a machine to do it for us! How did you even-?”

“A needle.” When Alphys openly gaped at him, Henry shrugged. “To be fair, it was a pretty tiny needle.” He held his fingers so close together they were almost touching. “Only, like, this big.”

“If you shove a needle that size into a glass, the glass is still going to break, Henry!” Alphys sounded completely exasperated at this point.

With a huff, Henry leaned back onto the cot and crossed his arms. “Look. What I did bought Charles the time he needed to get help. If I had to do it again, I absolutely would.”

Sensing they were at a standstill, Alphys just shook her head and let it go for now. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s happened has happened, and the only thing left to do is to try and fix it.” She adjusted her glasses and peered closer at the glowing red soul in front of her. “Hmm… have you noticed anything unusual as of late? Odd pains? Unusual emotional responses? That sort of stuff?”

Henry recalled the numerous times that he’d suffered from random aches and pains coming from his chest cavity. “Uh, yeah.” He told her about how his chest essentially hadn’t stopped aching since the extraction. Eventually he’d gotten used to it, but in reality he didn’t think it ever really stopped. “But it got a whole lot worse during the fight. Every time I used magic, the pain got real bad. Like, _real_ bad. I think it’s actually what tore my soul up so bad.” Careful fingers followed the crack from the center of his soul to the edge. While his memory isn’t perfect, Henry was pretty sure that was where he’d inserted the needle. Thankfully, there hadn’t been anything like this on Charles. That would have been unforgivable.

When the injured man turned back to the doctor, her mouth was gaping like a fish’s. “You- you can use magic?” She asked incredulously and, right, Henry hadn’t told her, had he? Between Frisk and Galeforce knowing and feeling like he could speak to Charles freely, Henry hadn’t been as secretive with his powers, and hadn’t really thought much of spilling his guts so casually. Well, it was fine. Alphys was pretty cool, and she’d been careful not to let Galeforce or Charles catch on that there may have been something really wrong with him. He trusted her well enough.

“Yeah.” Henry tossed her a casual, relaxed smile. “It’s, uh, not something I go around advertising, but I can use magic to create SAVES and go back to them whenever I need to.” He shrugged. “Really, not a big deal.”

“Uh, I mean, it’s KINDA a big deal? We all thought humans couldn’t do magic anymore?” Alphys runs one of her claws down her face. “First Frisk breaks the Barrier, then you manage to wake a Sleeping Soul, and now you can use magic? Is there any other impossible feats we’d like to do today? Maybe, you know, break the speed of light just because we’re bored or something?!”

In the face of her growing hysteria, Henry remained calm and placed a hand on her shoulder to draw her attention back to the present. “Easy, Doc.” She didn’t look less distressed, but she did focus her attention on Henry. “Let’s try and stay focused, okay?”

“Uh, okay.” The Doc seemed a little embarrassed to have gotten off track like that. She steeled her focus and began to address the problem at hand. “All magic comes from the soul, so when you were using magic you were straining your soul. That caused the tear to expand. So, uh, obviously no more magic until we fix this, okay?”

A lump formed in Henry’s throat. Well, that might be a problem. Still, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll… try.”

That obviously failed to reassure Alphys, but she continued on anyways. “The variations in your INTEGRITY levels might be the result of your soul attempting to correct the problem by itself. They’re surprisingly resilient. If that’s the case, then all you’d need to do is sit back and not do anything to make it worse. But if it’s not…” Here, Alphys looked thoughtful. “We may have to ask for help from a stronger healer. The Queen, maybe? Or maybe I can teach Charles. As a KINDNESS dominant soul, he’d be a natural healer.”

“Before we stress out other people about this,” Henry interrupted, already feeling a heavy gnawing in the pit of his stomach at the thought of telling Charles, “let’s wait and see if it’ll just fix itself.”

Alphys nodded. “Alright, but I want you back here for daily tests until we figure out what’s going on, okay?” She blinked up at him, her eyes big and sad like a small puppy’s. “Everything’s been going well so far… we don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

Henry nodded. “Alright. So, uh, now what?”

“I’m going to take some time to study what little I have on the other soul traits. See if I can find anything that will help you.” The Doctor picked herself up, then once again waved glowing green hands over Henry. The energy reinvigorated him; the aches didn’t completely fade, but Henry found himself with enough strength that walking and raising his arms wasn’t quite as tiring.

Wow. Monsters sure were neat.

“You head on over to the Summit.” Alphys smiled and patted his back. She was doing her best to put on a brave face, and while she was still clearly nervous, Henry respected her attempts to remain professional. “Just… focus on taking care of yourself for now. I expect to see you back here for more tests tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Gotcha.” Henry smiled and tossed a smile and a pair of finger guns in her general direction. “See ya tomorrow, Doc.”

Okay, so he had an unexpected soul injury. That was fine. Charles was safe and sound and the Toppat Clan was officially no longer Henry’s problem, so all Henry had to do was kick back with his newly revived best bud and wait for his soul to heal.

There were worse ways to spend his life.

When Henry arrived at the General’s tent, all decked out for the meeting with cheap Target folding tables and a fancy wooden podium from the local high school, it was Galeforce, Charles in hand, who was monologuing at the council of bored adults and one noticeably nervous adult that jumped to attention when he noticed Henry – the Mayor, who was currently on the top of Henry’s shit list for his obvious connection to whoever the hell hired that assassin who shot him. Even if he didn’t know this meeting was called because the man was blackmailed, the behavior by itself was enough to make Henry suspicious. The King was nervously fiddling with a piece of string, listening but a little too shaken to be able to focus. Only Frisk, who waved cheerfully with the one hand that wasn’t pinned to the table by their slightly perturbed mother, seemed to be fully engaged in the conversation.

“-Charles is literally in the most fragile state a single human can be in,” Galeforce was the picture of a confident General as he confidently gave his speech, “and not ONCE did the monsters so much as consider hurting him. He sacrificed himself for humanity, and thanks to the monsters he has a second chance at living his full life.”

_**And they’re super cool! Undyne told me about all the awesome magic stuff monsters can do! Like, did you know monsters eat magic plants? And they don’t ever have to go to the bathroom! That’s so convenient! Imagine how far you could get in a helicopter if you never have to go the bathroom!** _

Nice to hear that Charles was still Charles.

“This is all... fascinating information,” One of councilors proclaimed, “but we have to consider the safety of-”

“Safety?” Henry questioned openly, leaning against the open flap of the tent and letting the light of the outside world leave him nothing but a silhouette to the politicians. “No, no, no. Don’t pretend you care about the people’s _safety_. You’re afraid of being held responsible for anything that could happen. You’re afraid of _change_.”

Every eye turned in Henry’s direction, an event that set his stomach swirling, but he kept his composure and flashed them all a smile.

Galeforce looked less than impressed with Henry’s entrance, but still introduced him with a wave of his free hand. “And this is Mister Stickmin. He was the human who was shot earlier today.”

“I also helped save you all from the Toppat Clan,” Henry pointed out dryly. “So, you know, you’re welcome for that.” Henry sauntered up to the podium, leaning against it casually to hide the fact that his legs were beginning to get tired again. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret: Those humans you’re so keen on ‘protecting’? I’d bet half of them would be storming this camp right now if they knew the truth. You’re gravely underestimating your people. If you really think humans would reject monsters en mass, then why not let them in on the whole truth? Invite a news crew out here, let them see the conditions the monsters are in. Let the people make this choice about whether or not the monsters deserve a second chance.”

One of the politicians attempted to speak up. “Mister Stickmin-”

Henry shut him right down. “No, you actually _listen_ to somebody else for once. You’re not going to do that, because _you’re_ the ones who are scared. If anything goes wrong, you’ll get the blame. If the monsters turn out to be enemies, then you’re the good guys for not letting them into the city. If the monsters are allies, then you’re the good guys for not immediately sentencing them to death. And thus, nothing of value was lost or gained!” Henry huffed and threw up his arms, which were already beginning to get heavier. “I won’t lie and say the monsters jumped at the opportunity to help Charles and I. They were paralyzed by fear and indecision at first, just like you are. The only difference is that the monsters came around, and they threw _everything_ at helping Charles. Their best scientist looked after him while he was sleeping. She pulled a bullet out of my stomach, saving my life.

“The difference between monsters and humans is that while monsters were terrified, they still did their best to do the right thing. When you all were scared, you _sent an assassin after a child_.” Mayor Hartford openly cringed at the accusation. “If you really wanted to do right by both monsters and humans, then you would be arranging programs to slowly integrate monsters and magic into everyday life while having the monsters live in a safe and humane location. Instead, you’re arguing about whether or not to keep them living in squalor. Real compassionate. I can see why Mayor Hartford is currently trailing behind in the polls.

“Ultimately, you have to do what’s best for the people of Ebott. That includes the monsters now, like it or not. So if you want to keep your cushy jobs earning ridiculously high amounts of money to sit around and argue all day, you’d better do right by everybody. Or you won’t be back next term.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then one of the politicians, a man distinguishable from the others only by the golden pin on his suit, stood up and politely nodded at him. “Thank you for your input, Mister Stickmin. Your perspective will be invaluable in making our ultimate decision.”

That was politician speak for ‘Thanks, now shut the fuck up.’

Henry nodded politely and took his leave, managing to keep his head held high until he was outside and out of sight before finding a comfy spot of grass and sitting down for a rest. After a moment or two of just breathing and resting his limbs, somebody sat down next to him, and Henry turned to find Galeforce crouched at his side, looking him over cautiously while Charles bobbed nervously over his open palm.

“You alright, son?” He asked.

Geez, Charles was a literal soul without a body and Galeforce was worried about Henry? The younger man smiled up cheerfully and let Galeforce help him up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” Henry reassured them. “Just a little tired. A lot’s happened today.”

_**You can say that again. Want to go back to your tent to rest?** _

While a warm bed and a full twenty-four hours of sleep sounded appealing, Henry shook his head. “Nah, there’s one more thing I want to take care of before she’s transferred out of here.” Henry peered up at Galeforce. “Where is she?”

“Son, I’m not sure it’s a good idea-” Galeforce tried to talk him down, but Henry shook his head.

“She. Shot. Me.” Henry told him flatly. “I want to hear what she has to say for herself.”

_**...I’m coming with you.** _

Henry looked down at the glowing green light. “Charles…”

_**No buts Mister! Trying to talk you out of doing something crazy is impossible, but I at least want to be there for you! It’s… basically the only thing I can do right now.** _

Despite himself, Henry couldn’t keep a smile from stretching across his face. “...alright buddy. If it makes you feel better, you can come too, sir.” He told Galeforce, who was watching them with a resigned expression.

Galeforce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking about as done with their shit as he sounded. “...I should say no. I should confine you both to the medical tent. I should absolutely not be entertaining this stupid idea.”

He peered past his nose and at Henry, who smiled as brightly and charmingly as he could manage. Another exasperated sigh later, they were off to the prisoner’s tent.

With General Galeforce trailing after them, getting into the prisoner’s tent was a simple enough task. All they had to do was watch the soldiers salute their superior officer and in they went. The tent was mostly barren, with the exception of human guards posted around and the woman tied to the chair in the center of the room. Her head was bowed, so her mop of messy red hair covered her face. As they approached, Henry noticed Charles vibrating with what practically radiated angry energy. Not that Henry could blame him. If things had been the other way around, Henry definitely would’ve violated his pardon to make this woman suffer. As it was him who had been shot, however, now he was mostly just curious.

“Hey.” Henry greeted nonchalantly. The woman looked up; without a scarf covering half her face, she wasn’t quite as scary as he remembered. “Remember me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to size him up. “...Henry Stickmin, correct?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He smiled at her, but it quickly faded. Now that the scarf was down, she looked even more familiar, somehow. “Say… weird question, but have met before?”

The mysterious assassin squinted at him, her eyes gazing over his entire form. “Nope. Can’t say that we have.”

Weird. Maybe he was imaging it?

_**Hiya!** _

Charles shot out of the General’s open palm before any of them could react, hovering in front of the assassin’s suddenly wide eyes.

_**My name is Charles, and let me tell you, I have NOT been having a good week. So why don’t you just tell us what your whole deal is before things get worse, okay?** _

The woman stared at him. “...you’re a soul.”

_**Wow, really? Gee, hadn’t noticed.** _

The tangible frustration that radiated from Charles was a little unsettling from someone who was normally so cheerful and high-spirited. To be fair, though, if anybody in the world had the right to be a smidge frustrated, it was Charles. Even Henry had a cakewalk of a week compared to literally getting blown up.

“What could you possibly do? You’re a _soul_.” Even as she said this, the assassin eyed Charles with incredible suspicion, leaning as far away from Charles as her restraints would allow.

_**I dunno. Let’s find out!** _

Without anymore warning, Charles dived towards the assassin, and his green soul made contact with the skin of her face. He started glowing brighter and brighter, so bright that Henry had to shield his eyes once again. What the hell-?

After a long moment of blindness, the light finally dimmed and Henry sprinted to grab Charles as he peeled away from the woman. She was crying. Charles didn’t look any worse for ware, but whatever he’d done had clearly had an effect on her.

“You…” She gasped through her tears, “How did you…? What…?” She sniffled once, took a deep breath, then continued. “I saw my mom. That must have been… the last time I saw her was almost ten years ago. God, she must be so disappointed in me.” Her eyes fell down to her feet; the tears stopped flowing, but she didn’t look any less melancholy.

_**I… think that was a memory from your childhood. Uh, didn’t intend to do that. So… you’re name’s Ellie, right?** _

The newly dubbed Ellie nodded dejectedly.

_**I’m Charles. This is General Galeforce, and you already know Henry.** _

He bobbed back towards the two men behind him, then flew a little closer to Ellie.

_**You and your mom, uh, seemed to have it pretty rough. Is that why you agreed to kill Frisk?** _

“I- no, that’s not…” Ellie sighed. She suddenly looked almost as tired as Henry felt. “It started out that way… we were really bad off. So bad I was lucky to see my mom once or twice a week because she worked so much. I ran off when I was maybe sixteen, and I thought I could come home once I’d made it big, you know, really make her proud. But I kept running into trouble, and in order to get out of it I did some... less than legal things.” As she spoke, she began to relax some; her shoulders slumped, and while she still refused to look at any of them, her facial muscles untensed as she got lost in the bittersweet memories. “And, well, how could I face my mom after that? She worked so hard, and she wanted me to go to college and follow my dreams… and I let her down so, so hard.”

She looked on the verge of tears again.

“...so you kept to a life of crime, because you didn’t know anything else.” Henry finished. Goddammit, this lady shot him, he shouldn’t be feeling anything but anger towards her! But looking at her now, with her face red from tears and her regret radiating from her soul like heat from the sun, it was hard to feel anything but pity towards her.

She nodded miserably. “Eventually I screwed up. Trusted the wrong person and ended up at the Wall.” Aha, so _that’s_ where Henry recognized her from! He couldn’t remember where specifically, but he must have passed her at some point on his way out.

“The Wall?” Galeforce echoed. His expression suddenly darkened. “Ma’am, was it the Warden who sent you to assassinate the ambassador?”

That question made Ellie snort sarcastically. “Nah, that guy’s not gutsy enough to pull off something like this. I think someone higher up was twisting his arm. Some rich asshole came in with him to give me the job, and they told me if I pulled it off I’d be free and rich and, well, that’s basically all I’d ever wanted.” Ellie sighed and slumped down. “Fat load of good that did me. Didn’t expect the monsters to be as… strong as they ended up being.”

Bringing up the monsters reminded Henry of something. “While we’re on the subject of the monsters, mind telling me where you learned magic?”

Her eyes narrowed in on Henry. “How do you… wait, did I tell you I could use magic? I don’t remember using it on you…”

For once, someone half-remembering Henry’s SAVES wasn’t a total pain in the rear. He smiled and leaned back, casually crossing his arms across his chest. “You may have mentioned it, yeah. So spill.”

“…” Ellie eyed him oddly, maybe suspecting that he was lying, before cautiously continuing. “A bunch of old fairy tales I used to like growing up had stories of witches and wizards doing cool magic stuff, but they usually ended up defeated. And I always used to think, ‘that’s so stupid, why didn’t they just do this?’ and one day, I actually did the thing I was thinking angrily at the characters. Took me a while and a whole lotta folk lore to really get the hang of it, but I eventually taught myself a bunch of cool tricks.”

“Huh, okay.” Henry mused on that for a moment. First himself, then Frisk, now this crazy character? How could some people come across magic so easily, and the rest of humanity go their whole lives without ever discovering their true potential?

_**Ellie… thank you for being honest with us. And you should give your mom a call. Even if you think she’ll hate you, she’s still your mom, ya know? I mean, at least you have one…** _

“And she even cares about you.” Henry added absently, still lost in his thoughts. “Bonus.”

Galeforce shot them both long, deeply concerned looks before turning his attention back to Ellie. “Alright, Ellie. One last question: Who was the man who gave you this job?”

For a long moment, Ellie stared directly at him. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Then her lips curled into a cold smirk. “Are you familiar with the Poshley family?”

The two soldiers in the back went rigged. General Galeforce quietly cursed to himself under his breath.

_**Uh… feels like I’m a little outta the loop, here. The Poshley family?** _

“There one of those old money ‘may be a mafia family but you’ll never prove it’ types.” Henry filled in without hesitation. He’d taken his fair share of jobs for these guys back in the day. “Only one of them has a direct connection to any criminal organization, as an elite in the Toppats. The rest are… nebulous at best, but they’re the type of people politicians go to when they want to borrow money, so they have a _lot_ of friends in high places.” Henry snorted. “That’s gonna be a fun bit of drama.”

Galeforce pinched the bridge of his nose. While it was impossible to know for certain what was going through his mind, Henry liked to think he was silently bemoaning the long, long hours of paperwork it would take to even approach these men, let alone arrest them. After a moment of Galeforce silently regretting his life choices, he turned away from Ellie. “Your cooperation is deeply appreciated, Ma’am. I’ll make sure this is noted for future posterity.”

His appreciation didn’t seem to impress Ellie that much, if her rolled eyes were any indication. “Yeah, sure, thanks. If I live that long, after ticking off people like this.”

_**Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe!** _

And there was Charles, ever the spirit of optimism. He bounced forward and booped her on the nose, a spark of green KINDNESS flashing for a brief moment and causing Ellie to shed another tear. The group turned to leave.

“W-wait…”

They turned back. Ellie was staring down at the ground, unable to look them in the eyes all of a sudden.

She asked, “Do you… think anyone can make up for their mistakes? That anyone could be a good person, if they just tried?”

There was a moment of silence as they all contemplated the question, or maybe her reason behind asking it. Eventually, Henry walked forward, slowly, and knelled down as carefully as he could to look her in the eyes.

“Maybe, once upon a time, I would’ve said no,” He told her honestly, “but now? _I’ve_ become a better person, and as far as I’m concerned, that means anyone can change if they just try. The problem is not enough people are willing to try, if you know what I mean.” His DETERMINED red gaze met her PERSEVERANT violet one, and for the longest while neither of them spoke. Then, finally, Ellie broke their stare and looked away from him.

Henry wasn’t sure what she got out of that interaction, but he decided to leave her alone with her thoughts. Carefully, slowly, he stood up, wincing as the wound on his side protested the action, then cautiously limped back over to the General, who met him halfway and helped him walk out of the prisoner’s tent.

“The first order of business,” The General announced once they were generally out of earshot, “is to raise hell for Mister Petrov. He’d already crossed a line arresting you, and now letting prisoners out for political assassinations? Rest assured, he’s not going to hear the end of this for a _long_ time.”

Just the idea of dealing with the overzealous warden again made Henry even more tired, somehow. “Well, whenever you deal with him, make sure to leave me out of it as much as possible.” The younger man sighed, leaning further into Galeforce’s side. “He thinks I’m dead and I’d very much like it to stay that way, please.”

“I’ll take care of it, son.” Galeforce promised.

_**Well, feel free to bring ME into it, because I have a few choice words for that warden guy!** _

Henry chuckled, but his joy was short-lived before a something crashed into his side with the force of a rampaging rhino, throwing both him and Galeforce off balance and causing a torrent of new pain for Henry. When he looked down, who did he find but the young Ambassador themselves smiling up at them with a tearful expression.

“Thank you so much, Henry!” Frisk gushed. “The politicians were really moved by your speech! After you yelled at them, they began talking about outreach programs and integration techniques and long-term settlement ideas! Nothing’s set in stone yet, Mom and Asgore want to talk things through with all the monsters and get some of their opinions on next steps, but they’re finally treating monsters like _people_! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Hey,” He pat them gently on the head, “I don’t get points for being honest about what happened. Besides, it was really Charles and Galeforce that did most of the talking. I just shamed those spineless losers into taking it seriously. Quick politics lesson for you, Ambassador: When all else fails, shame your opponents.”

Frisk gave him a serious nod while Galeforce behind him loudly told Frisk, “You should absolutely NOT do that, Ambassador.”

_**Hey you two, can we give Henry a little space? Poor guy’s still a little sore from earlier.** _

Charles floated down from General Galeforce’s hand toward Frisk, bumping into their head in the process.

...those two? He clearly wasn’t talking to the General, but then who else was he…? Hmm, come to think of it, Frisk had been talking to someone last night. Someone who hadn’t been there… or someone Henry couldn’t see. Someone who Frisk talked to without anyone else hearing, someone who maybe knew things the child didn’t. Like magic. Ah, so the mystery further unravels. He’d have to pick at Frisk’s brain later, once he was a little less exhausted.

Frisk popped back, waving their cute little arms back at the three men as they walked away. So now on Henry’s plate he had: an incredibly DETERMINED child with an unknown invisible creature at their beck and call with unknown magical knowledge, a best friend who needed a new body and also to figure out how the hell he was going to _see_ , and a soul wound that would tear him apart at the seams if he wasn’t careful.

Yeah, Henry was ready for that nap, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t expect two illustrations per chapter plus a title image every time. I just couldn’t resist: one was super important, and the other was really, really cute.
> 
> Um. So. I didn't really INTEND for the whole 'who hired the assassin?' thing to become a subplot. That was just an excuse to get Ellie into the story. So please don't be too disappointed if the story ends without that thread being resolved. Might address it in a separate one-shot later on or something.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also check out this story on my tumblr, Knightmareaceblue. I also have a bunch of fun comics there! :D
> 
> Anyways, feel free to tell me what you think, and if you've noticed any mistakes. Characters and ships will be tagged as they appear to avoid spoilers. Hope you enjoy!


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